


Everybody Wants to Rule the World

by orphan_account



Series: Stars, Hide your Fires [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dragons, Implied Mpreg, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mad Stormcloak Dan, Songfic, Thieves Guild, alternate universe - skyrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-02-09 00:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1961349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the war becomes even more bloody, High King Ryan has a plan for it all to end swiftly - provided he gets what he wants. Or is it truly the Mad High King behind Skyrim's latest political plot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Protect the Family

**Author's Note:**

> I was playing Skyrim for nearly 3 days straight, and listening to RT Podcasts...So the merge sort of happened.
> 
> Fic based off of the Lorde song "Everybody wants to rule the world."

“You know he’s going to hate you for this, right?”

Geoff cast his gaze up to his wife, sitting opposite him from the dining table with her arms crossed over her armoured chest. He sighed and turned his attention back to the note he had received just an hour early. The war was getting worse, according to Ray and his band of murderers. The news of Ryan’s betrayal was spreading like wildfire throughout the Holds, as was his reputation of his madness. To use a weapon like dragon’s fire against the last High King...Who would think of something so cruel?

Griffon huffed a sigh and stood up from the table of the tavern. Riften was becoming increasingly empty since everyone fled to the walled cities in fear of one of Ryan’s dragons finding their way down to the southern Holds. At least they were safe in the Ratways. That was all that mattered. 

“How are you going to tell him?” she said solemnly, looking over her shoulder to the metal doors leading out into the sewers.  
“I have no idea.” Geoff rubbed a hand over his face, the letter suddenly feeling heavier than ever. It may as well be – It was sealing Gavin’s fate away.  
“He’s going to really hate you,” she said bitterly, looking at him with hooded eyes – the same look she gave to the previous wealthy citizens of Riften when she plotted her next lift.

Geoff stood from the table, pushing his tankard full of ale away. “Fuck the King,” he muttered under his breath, turning to march into the lower vaults to their chambers. Gavin was still out hunting – hopefully. Their supplies were wearing thin, and some of the remaining thieves were talking about moving to other cities. When the rumours got to Griffon, and Griffon told Geoff, he was livid. Riften was their home, and their seat of power within the now-crumbing empire. They were one of the last few guilds still operating. If Ray and the Brotherhood fell, then it was just them.

Geoff wandered through the vaults contemplating his options. The war would end, according to Ryan, if he joined the last remaining piece of the empire. Riften was still, in his eyes, an unclaimed Hold that needed to be subdued. By marriage or dragon fire, he didn’t care – the choice was all Geoff’s.

He could practically hear the sizzling of the fire against the stone walls of the city. He could smell the smoke and burning flesh. His pace staggered and he reached out to lean against one of the pillars. Protect the family – Griffon’s very words echoed throughout the vaults. Protecting the family meant giving a member of said family away to a madman to ensure their safety. Whether or not Gavin was going to be safe in Solitude...he liked to hope that he would be.

Stepping out into the main vault where most of the thieves slept, he almost staggered back when he saw the worn, brown coloured armour of Gavin climbing down the ladder of the well above. Over his shoulder, two thick cuts of meat were bound by ropes. Thank the Divines for that. With Ryan’s dragons patrolling the skies of the realms, he was almost sure most of them had eaten or scared away the prey available. He had lived in Winterhold once, and he thinks that a place suspended on an eroding cliff with a several hundred foot drop would be safer than here.

He watched silently as Gavin threw the hunks of venison at the other thieves, letting them prepare it for dinner. His bow was slung over his shoulder – the dark ebony metal glistening slightly against the torch-lit walls. The boy pushed some of his hair back from his face as he strode to his own bunk, sliding his crimson coloured blades out of their holsters. Geoff drew in a deep breath and stalked around the shallow pool of water in the middle of the vault, eyeing each of the thieves as they went about their daily business. They knew better than to bother Geoff, only if it was the matter of Riften itself burning to the ground.

As he approached the boy, he crumpled the letter still in his hand, and shoved it into his back pocket. He didn’t want to use Ryan’s words. He would explain their predicament himself, ignoring the king’s harsh tone through the writing. 

Gavin perked his head up at the sounds of Geoff’s footfalls against the stone floor. A smile swept across his face. “G’Evening Geoff.”  
Geoff bowed his head. “Your hunt went well I see.”  
A proud smile seemed to replace the boyish one. “It did! I came across an Elk in the lower valleys of the Rift.”  
“You went that far north?” Geoff raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t go into Eastmarch did you?”  
Gavin scoffed at the man’s worried tone. “I didn’t go anywhere near that cursed place.”

Geoff seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Thank the Divines that the boy had some common sense left in him. He clenched his fists to his sides as he scanned around the opened vault. Everyone was busy doing their own things – archery, swordplay, or even lock picking. All skills that were becoming less and less useful as the city’s people left.

“Can I talk to you?”  
Gavin nodded. “Alone,” Geoff continued, inclining his head to his and Griffon’s quarters. At least their conversation could be said through closed doors, and not broadcasted to the entire guild.

Gavin rose up from his bed and followed Geoff past the other thieves. The sound of the metal doors closing behind them was almost deafening in the otherwise silent chamber. To Geoff’s surprise, Griffon was nowhere in sight. He had thought that maybe after their meeting in the Ratway’s tavern that maybe she would retire here, but apparently not.

Out of the corner of his eye, Geoff could see Gavin’s smile starting to fade. “What did you want to talk about?” he strode over to one of the chairs in the corner of the room, beside a table lined with ales and wines.  
Geoff cleared his throat and crossed his arms infront of him. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the murder of the last High King.”  
Gavin nodded, pouring himself a goblet of maroon coloured wine. “That Haywood bloke is king now, right?”  
“That bloke is now our High King, Gav,” Geoff condescended, trying to make himself sound like e wasn’t falling apart inside. “And that very king is going to ruin the province if certain alliances aren’t held.”  
Gavin, mid-way through a gulp of wine, raised an eyebrow at the man standing stock still at the door way. 

“A message arrived for me this morning,” Geoff explained, “the war is only going to get worse with both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks unless a firm alliance is formed between us.”  
“But we don’t represent either of them,” Gavin interjected, placing the goblet back on the table.  
“Not us, no. But Riften is still a Stormcloak city in his eyes.”  
Gavin’s eyebrows drew together. “So what are you getting at?”  
Geoff drew in another deep breath, ready to catch the boy’s arm if he decides to bolt. “Ryan thinks a marriage would best seal our alliance to his regime.”  
Gavin looked at the man, tilting his head to the side. “A marriage? Between who?”  
“Ryan and you.”

The words were left hanging in the air as the room grew full of tension. For a brief moment, Geoff could have sworn he saw pure white panic flash through Gavin’s eyes – something that otherwise didn’t exist. The boy was brave; braver than many of the thieves, but Ryan was a terrifying man with an even more terrifying reputation.

“Gav?”  
The boy didn’t respond for an agonisingly long time. “Gav, please talk to me.”  
“You’ve decided this with Griffon?”  
Geoff nodded.  
“You’re just going to send me away?” the boy asked, the rims of his eyes staring to turn red under the dim torchlight. “Like some common whore?!”

Gavin stood up quickly and strode for the door. Geoff’s hand came down and clamped onto the boy’s forearm. He understood that maybe Gavin would like his space, but he needed to understand – Protect the family.  
The words of the sentence seemed to pass from Geoff’s mind into Gavin’s as the elder let go of his arm. Gavin stormed past him, throwing open the door of their chambers and powering through the vaults. Griffon’s warning started to seep back into Geoff’s mind – He’s going to hate you for this.

The other thieves sent stray glances between the growing distance between them, but obediently didn’t say anything. The sound’s of Griffon’s boots against the stone ground echoed out of earshot as she wandered up to her husband. She silently took his hand and threaded her fingers between his. “He’ll be fine,” she whispered, leaning into his shoulder.  
“I hope so,” he replied, watching the boy grab his bow and ascend the wooden stairs back up to the surface.  
“We’ll all be fine.”


	2. Welcome to Your Life

“That’s so stupid,” Dan commented bitterly, picking at the splintering wood from his bow.

Gavin muttered a response into the hunter’s neck as they lay at the most southern bank of Lake Honrich. The lake was eerily quiet as it lapped the edges of the bank, disturbing the quietness every so often.  
Dan huffed and pushed his bow away, using his now free arm to wrap it around Gavin. “Where will you be going?” the hunter said, absently running his fingers over the seemed ridges of the boy’s leather armour. 

Gavin raised his head to look at Dan. “Solitude, apparently. That’s where the mad man’s holding up.”  
Dan’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “Solitude! That’s at the other side of the bloody realm!”  
The thief rolled his eyes and pushed up off of the grass to sit up. “I know,” he grumbled, casting his mind back to when Geoff told him.  
He felt Dan copy his action as the hunter placed a hand gently on his shoulder. Even through the layers of armour, he could still feel the warmth of the action. “You think that...I don’t know...”  
“You could come with me?”  
Dan shrugged. “I could. I’m a hunter stuck in a place with nothing to hunt.”  
Gavin couldn’t help but smirk. “Solitude would be worse. Ryan’s dragons would be everywhere.”

They could be here, for all they knew. All it took was the echoing noise of a pissed dragon for them to sprint back to the city’s walls. Luckily, there’s no more food left in the Rift, so dragons haven’t been seen here in nearly a year.  
Dan and Gavin swept their gazes over the quiet lake for what seemed to be hours until a swift cold breeze shook Gavin back to the present. “I’ll miss you,” he heard Dan mumble. When the boy turned to look at the hunter, Dan reached behind Gavin’s head and pulled him into a deep kiss. 

Gavin pulled away quickly. “Please don’t,” he said, standing up quickly and batting the dirt and gravel off of his armour. “It’s hard enough, Dan.”  
“It’s not even your own choice, mate!” Dan exclaimed. “Geoff has no right to send you away like that.”  
“He’s like my dad, Dan,” he explained quietly. “Divines only know what would of happened if he hadn’t of taken me in.”  
“You wouldn’t have lasted another week in that ‘orphanage’ Gav,” Dan shrugged, standing up beside Gavin. “None of us would have.”  
The boy felt Dan’s hand drift to his own, their fingers joining together. “I don’t want you to do without me,” Dan mumbled.  
“Solitude is dangerous enough as it is,” Gavin explained. “Even more so with someone like Ryan heading the monarchy from there.”

A bird took off from a nearby tree, making Gavin jump slightly. He instinctively reached for the dagger in his boot, but breathed in deeply when he recognised the small silhouette of a bird against the evening sky. Dan noticed the movement and smiled sadly, “You know you won’t be a part of the Thieves Guild anymore?”  
Gavin’s chest constricted. “Yeah, I do.”  
“And you won’t be loaded up with daggers, swords and arrows...”

A life without his bow is something Gavin didn’t want to think about. He had learnt it from his father before he died in a house fire with the rest of the family. Gavin was left alone in Riften, taken in by the local orphanage and that haggard old bitch that ran it. Meeting Dan there was his saviour. They withstood beatings and lectures about how no one would want them. They did everything together.

That was until Dan turned sixteen and was ordered by the old witch to leave her ‘care’. He settled in with a local hunter living in the Rift’s forest. Good for him, Gavin used to think to himself when the old woman’s screaming became too much. But Gavin wasn’t far behind. When he turned sixteen, that was when he noticed someone always looking over him. When a lift didn’t go according to plan, and the guards came for him that was when a marked woman with bright blond hair came out of the darkness and talked the guards out of taking him to jail. 

“He’s with us,” the woman said simply, casting a glance back to Gavin’s scruffy appearance. The guards that day had exchanged knowing looks before scampering off back to the Keep. Griffon held out her hand for Gavin, leading the boy through the Ratways and Vaults, finishing with showing the boy to another marked man with short dark coloured hair. They had taken him in without any consideration. Griffon thought him how to mend and create armour and weapons, and Geoff always took him out on lifts to show him how it was done. Hells, half of the training room was created solely for their new addition to the family.

To think that he would have to leave all of this behind him, his heart started to lurch up into his throat. He wouldn’t cry – he already promised himself that when he stormed out of the vaults. He would be as strong as the soldiers that he once aspired to be.

“You need to go soon,” Dan’s voice broke through his thoughts. He was right, the evening was beginning to waste away into night, and although the sky-lights were lovely to watch, he didn’t want to encounter anything he shouldn’t.

Dan gave him one last kiss on the cheek before slinging his bow and quiver over his shoulder. Before the hunter could make it into the dense forest, Gavin called out to him. “Dan!”  
The hunter turned on his heels. 

Gavin ran over to him and kissed him deeply, sliding a dagger into the hunter’s hand. When they pulled apart, Dan looked down and saw the ebony blade of Gavin’s favourite dagger. The swirls and patterns wrapped around the pommel and blade effortlessly. Gavin had made it himself nearly three years ago as a present for Geoff’s birthday. The man had enough blades of every metal imaginable, even ones that Gavin has never heard of. Geoff refused the gift, saying that having a ‘son’ like him was enough. Ever since then, it has been permanently lodged in Gavin’s boot.

“Keep it,” he muttered into Dan’s lips. “So a piece of me will always be here in the Rift.”

Dan smiled sadly and holstered the dagger into his belt, and stole one last kiss from the brunette before heading into the forests.

Gavin was left to listen to the leaves bristling against each other as the breeze swayed through the forest. He’d miss this place – his home. He’d miss the salty smell of the fishing docks and the musk of the old meadery. But the war had to end. He reminded himself that. It had to end. Ridiculous scenarios played through Gavin’s mind; if he didn’t do this, Ryan would tear Riften to the ground. Everyone underground would be buried alive – his friends, his family. Geoff and Griffon would be taken to Ryan personally, probably, and hanged. He needed to do this, not for himself, but for them.  
If only he could contact Ray.

He still had one more name to give to Ray after he had saved the bastard from a close encounter from an Orc barrack in Eastmarch. He started to wonder what would happen if he gave Ray Ryan’s name. If he said ‘Ryan Haywood’...would that be the end of the reign of fire? Hells, if Ray could take out an Imperial General like Markov, maybe he could take out Ryan.

Gavin shrugged away the cold breeze and pulled at his leather armour. He strode back into the city via a small pathway from the southern gates to an unused well. Climbing down the worn wooden steps, he descended down into the Ratways.

 

*

 

To say that Gavin couldn’t sleep that night was a bloody understatement. Lying on his bunk, he pushed and pulled at the straw and furs lining the bunk closest to Geoff’s quarters. He had ignored the man’s goodnight hours earlier, and only gave a court nod to Griffon who, understandably, was the only person inside the Guild that wasn’t annoying him. 

He had hardly touched his dinner, giving the slices of cooked venison to the younger thieves to eat. He thought he would throw it back up if he had eaten it. He had gotten a questioning look from Griffon, but he shrugged it off and excused himself for bed. 

So here he was – three hours later and wide awake. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but think about Ryan and Solitude. The rumours always varied wherever he went: murdering, pillaging, slave-trading, dragon riding and what Gavin dreaded to think about, his ability to speak like the beasts he kept. He never understood the magic behind it, but apparently dragons weren’t some mindless blood-thirsty beasts who breathed fire. They talked to each other in a long lost language. The fact that Ryan knew, and understood, the language was baffling. Magic was dangerous – yet another lesson from Griffon, given to him when he was twenty and encountered a drunk mage adept in destructive magic.

Gavin rolled onto his side, facing away from Geoff’s room and across the vaults to the tall, ebony crafted statue of Nocturnal. The goddess was carved specifically for the Guild’s need of a protector. He needed the goddess’ protection now more than ever. Honestly, if Ryan were to kill him, then it would be the alliance that would fall. And Gavin is a thief – he has alliances of his own. Ray of the Dark Brotherhood, Michael and the Companions, even Jack of the College of Winterhold all owed him something for his services. Gavin smiled; an assassin, a warrior and a master warlock, all leaders of their own guilds. If it were anyone else, he would be untouchable. But the fact that it was the High King made Gavin’s smile suddenly shatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudos and comment ^L^ Thank you for the reads my lovelies <3
> 
> Also, I was thinking about an mpreg fic - trust me, it may work in the whole "taming the Ryan beast"
> 
> Comment and let me know ^^ If not, I'll sort something out, so it's no problem ^^


	3. Forging the Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic inspired by Lorde's song "Everybody wants to Rule the World".

It’s a four day trek to Solitude from Riften, provided the avoidance of bandits. It was a nonstop trek that Gavin was actually glad to be ending. The road changed from dirt to gravel to smooth cobble stone under the horses’ hooves within hours. Each step his horse took, Gavin’s heart rate increased until he was worried that Geoff or Griffon could hear the knocking against his ribcage.

Geoff reined back his horse until he was in line with Gavin. The man gave him a reassuring smile – a father’s smile, Gavin thought to himself. The kind of smile a father would give his son if he was scared. How fitting – right now, Gavin was thinking of turning his horse and bolting back down to the Reach, and hiding within the Valleys.

But he needed to do this for them, for his family.

Solitude was perched on top of a steep hill, with its towering stone walls and watchtowers casting dark shadows down the street, almost blocking out the sun as it crept over the harbour below. Gavin tightened his grip on the reins and kicked his horse forward when the gate to the city opened. 

“Breathe,” Geoff whispered as he kicked his horse forward to join Griffon. Gavin did what he was told and breathed how Griffon had once taught him when a particular close-call with what he thought was a troll left him panicking and out of breath.

The groaning of the heavy metal gates was almost deafening to Gavin as the horses trotted through the winding streets lined with red-cloaked guards, each more armoured than the last. Geoff held up his hand as they approached the Blue Palace. Their horses slowed into a gentle walk until a gathering of guards meet them outside the palace walls. Gavin had been paying attention as they travelled through the city – the city was certainly built to last, as he spots no escape route in site. Unless there’s an old secret passageway underneath the palace, he has no way out without Ryan’s knowledge.

A group of soldiers marching in neat lines strode forward until the halted with a clatter of spears to the ground underneath. Geoff pulled back the hood of his armour and went to dismount his horse. 

“Where is your captain?” He asked as he surveyed the helmeted soldiers. Griffon and Gavin remained on their horses, but watched them carefully. 

The soldiers parted in unison as the most armour-clad soldier marched forward, with on hand on the pommel of his sword. From the dragon emblem on the golden handle, Gavin could tell that the man was not only the captain of the guard, but have done something for the King to earn him such a blade. Not even the Elves or the Dwarven would’ve carved such blades. 

The man halted before Geoff and unclasped his helmet, pulling it off to reveal a rugged face topped with closely cropped dark brown hair. Gavin eyes the man as he tightened the grip around the sword’s handle. He sends Geoff an almost murderous glare before slightly bowing his head. 

“I’m the captain of the King’s royal guard,” the man announces, standing up straighter than Gavin thought humanely possible. The man’s built form reminded him of another race of people living in the realm, not Nordic. Gavin shook his head and dismounted while Geoff talked to the captain about where the King was presently, and what exactly he was doing.

A blond-haired woman appeared from behind the guards and strode forward for the horses. The woman took Geoff and Gavin’s horses from them and led them to nearby stables. Griffon watched the woman with hooded eyes as she stays atop her horse. She was leaving before Geoff according to the pair. She had a job in Falkreath.

“The King is unavailable at this time,” the captain said to Geoff, casting his glance sideways as Gavin approached the men. “But I am sure he’ll be glad to know that his new husband has arrived.”

Gavin flinched at the remark, but raised his eyes to meet the captain’s. Breton. That’s what he was. 

“You’re a long way from High Rock, captain,” Gavin smiled when the captain flinched. 

“Gavin,” Griffon hissed from her horse. The captain raised his hand and regained his composure. “I moved here when I was a boy. I am a civilian of Skyrim, nothing more.”

Gavin nodded and cast a glance to Geoff, who unlike his wife, was trying to contain a small smirk. Bretons weren’t common in Skyrim, and their elven heritage just made them hated by the Nordic folk. Bretons were also supposed to be mages and conjurers, not city guard captains. Jack was the only Breton he knew of, and he was well known as the College’s most able warlock. 

“I was instructed to take you into the Keep,” the captain said, gesturing into the palace’s gates. Gavin looked sideways at Geoff, who only nodded. He had been talking this through with the boy – he couldn’t get into the palace unless Ryan invited him in, so he would rent a room in the local tavern and stay inside the city for as long as he could before Ryan threw him out.

Gavin drew in a deep breath and let the captain lead him into the Keep, followed by the remaining guards. As they all piled together in formation again, Gavin’s view of Geoff and Griffon faded until they were blocked away from him. He shuddered.

The captain spun the boy back around to march forward into the Blue Palace. The palace was bustling with activity, whether it was servants flocking in and out of rooms and around pillars carrying all sorts of things. Soldiers dressed in simple red tunics were posted at every door – again, neutralising a chance of escape. The palace, as he was led through it, was huge. The ceiling was high above them, supported by decorated pillars depicting scenes of the war’s history. It was surprisingly well lit for such a huge building with torches and lanterns lining most of the walls. 

Gavin peered up at the captain, still without a helmet, and studied his face. He had a scar over his lip that, from his own personal experiences with them, had healed pretty well. The other guards looked just as daunting as their armour clattered against each other as the captain led Gavin to the throne room. It was well hidden away, hidden by winding staircases and thick stone walls. With the crimson colours everywhere visible, Gavin suddenly felt out of place wearing the worn ash coloured thieves guild uniform. Griffon had told him to bring his old civilian clothes, but Geoff talked her out of it should they be attacked on the road to Solitude.

The doors of the throne room were hauled open by two stationary guards. The room was a lot bigger than Gavin anticipated with two long tables stretching from the foot of the dais to the front of the hall. Just like the other castles he had been in, people of various uniforms and ranks were perched in seats eating and gulping down wine, undisturbed by the guards passing them. 

On the raised dais above three marbled steps was a large, looming throne made of what Gavin suspected to be swords, crowns of fallen Jarls, and bones. It was empty – well at least Ryan wasn’t here.  
The captain caught Gavin looking at the throne and commented, “Ugly old thing, isn’t it?”

Gavin opened his mouth to reply, but promptly shut it when he caught the sight of two men carrying in another wood and metal carved chair to place beside the throne. Surely it wasn’t for him? He had thought about the idea of having to rule beside Ryan – he was technically a prince now. Maybe he would be able to temper Ryan’s behaviour, or maybe die trying to. 

The captain inclined his head, “As I am the High King’s personal guardsman I expect to be seeing you quiet often. My name is Burnie.”  
Gavin copied the motion. “I’m sure you already know who I am.”  
“An ex-thief, nonetheless.”

The captain noted the slight twitch underneath the boy’s eye on the word “ex”. That’s what he would be as soon as he was married. Gavin thought that there would be nothing worth living for if he wasn’t a thief – it was his life until now. What would he be from now on?

“The wedding is tomorrow morning,” the captain said bluntly, turning to face the servants gathering behind him. “Make sure he’s ready on time.”

 

*

 

Geoff couldn’t come to the wedding as it was held inside the Keep. Griffon was probably half way to Falkreath by now, given that the rain had staved off. It was a nice ceremony. As nice as it could have been as Gavin peered up to the dais and saw Ryan for the first time. He didn’t know what to expect. Every story told him a different thing about him, but none gave any solid information of what he actually looked like. They always spoke about how insane the man had become after looking after dragons for most of his life. 

They sat beside each other in the throne room. He tried to avoid anyone’s gaze as he took in the details of the room – high ceilings with decorated arches, marbles pillars and railings, and another level above them for viewing. 

The noise of the celebrating crowd was quickly drowned out when he thought back to what had just happened. The walk up the long aisle must have been the longest walk of his life, especially with the hundreds of eyes looking at his direction. None of them compared to the gaze Ryan steeled his way. He could have stumbled from the unreadable look Ryan sent him, but once on top of the dais, words of a high priest started to meld together, leading up to when Ryan leaned in to kiss his new husband.

He could still feel the surprisingly warm lips on his. 

Ryan waved over Burnie from one of the aisles he was patrolling, his hand still over the pommel of his sword. Gavin supposed a good way to kill a king would be at his own wedding.

“What’s the word on the prisoners from the South?”

Gavin settled back into his seat beside Ryan, trying his best not to listen to conversing men.

“Commander Joel says he should have them here by the end of the week. They ran into some Forsworn settlements along the way.”

Ryan waved his hand in dismissal. “Tell him to kill them,” he sighed. “They’re occupying my pets’ home.”

Burnie nodded courtly and marched away, disappearing through a door. Ryan leaned back into his throne, drumming his fingers over the armrests. From the brief seconds that Gavin actually looked at the man, he noticed that he didn’t look like the towering monster people in Markarth perceived him to be. He didn’t wear much armour, just crimson red and silver garments similar to the courts’.

Sitting on the dais, he looked down on the conversing crowds. Some were drinking, others eating the huge amount of food lining the long tables. All of them put on cheerful smiles that Gavin knew were fake. 

“Are you not hungry?”

Gavin jumped at the sound of Ryan’s voice. He turned to face the man and was met with a look of confusion. His plate, which a servant had brought him nearly an hour ago, was still somewhat full of meat and bread. He had eaten some of it, but pushed the rest around with his fork. 

Gavin shook his head. The weight of the crown that the forgers had made felt heavy on his head, even though it was a skinny and intricate thin with greyish metal and amber coloured jewels. Ryan studied the boy’s face for a drawn out minute before turning back to look at the crowds below. 

He wants Geoff to be here. If he was sitting with the people below at one of the tables, maybe he could feel alright about being here. But he wasn’t. He was still in Solitude, as per Ryan’s order. Apparently Ryan had given the thief Proudspire Manor to stay in until Griffon came back from her lift. Proudspire was a nice house, according to Ryan as he tried to ease the boy’s mind. It was at least three floors high with strong walls and a slated roof. Well protected from everything the city had to throw against someone. 

He thought about the possibility of Geoff staying here permanently, but Riften was going to be the better choice. It was their home. He wouldn’t hate the man if he did end up returning to the south, he would understand completely.

Ryan’s hand drifted to rest over Gavin’s, and it took every ounce of control not to lurch away and make a run for the Keep’s door. He felt the King’s gaze drift over to him again, followed by a few of those belonging to his councillors; old, haggard men with aged faces and long white hair.

Before Gavin could blink, Ryan leaned over his throne and placed a small kiss to Gavin’s temple. A small chuckle came from the councillors, followed by a court nod from the eldest. Ryan’s grip on the boy’s hand tightened as he stood from the throne, taking Gavin with him.

Panic started to flame through the boy’s chest as Ryan led them both away from the party, closely followed by Burnie and his men. He tried to make himself breathe as they ascended the staircases in mutual silence until they reached a long wide landing at the top. Ryan turned to Burnie, “Make sure the guests are taken care of.”

Burnie gave a single nod and ushered the soldiers back down the steps with heavy footfalls. Ryan’s hand was still wrapped around Gavin’s as he pulled him to the large oak doors at the end of the landing. Two guards were positioned outside and stomped to attention when Ryan ordered the door open. Gavin watched the movement from underneath his brow, taking in the wide opened courtyard that looked over the Karth river and out onto the marshes to the east, and the opened North Sea. 

The air outside was cold, but was quickly left behind as they pair ascended another closed off staircase leading up into an ornately decorated room. Crimson flags with wyvern emblems lined the stone walls, as did bookshelves packed with leather-bound books and scrolls. The sound of the doors closing behind him made Gavin screw his eyes shut. He only opened them when he felt Ryan standing right behind him.

He heard the older man sigh deeply before running a hand over the younger’s shoulder, down his arm and across his lower back. Through the layers of clothes, Gavin could feel the hot touch and felt the pathway of where it went. He remained stock still, clenching his fists to his sides and breathing in deeply through his nose. 

Suddenly the hand pulled away and Ryan strode out over to the turned down bed, unclasping the belt holding his sword to lean it against the bedside drawer. His crown was removed and place on top of the wooden desk and Ryan climbed in under the ebony coloured sheets, wordlessly. Gavin was left standing in the middle of the room, clueless about what to do. Ryan looked up and waved him over.

Gavin stumbled to the other side of the bed, taking off the ceremonial clothes and dropping them on a chair, mirroring Ryan’s previous actions. He looked down at the man and reached for the hem of his undershirt, making to pull it over his head.

“Stop.”

Gavin paused, and let the shirt hang back down. He looked at the King quizzically. 

He sighed. “I will not force myself on you – I’m not that much of a monster.”

Gavin nodded, and slowly slid in under the sheets, facing away from Ryan to look out of the many doors that led onto a balcony lined in roses and lilies. He heard the rustling of sheets and peered over his shoulder to see Ryan lying facing the other way towards the door, followed by the sounds of heavy breathing.

Gavin turned back and wiggled in the bed trying to get comfortable. This was his life now.

He didn’t know whether to scoff or cry.

"Welcome to your life, Gavin," he whispered to himself hoarsely until he faded to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment, and have a lovely day my darlings :)


	4. Tamriel

Waking up the following morning was one of the most disconcerting things Gavin had ever experienced.

Outside on the balcony, birds were chirping and the sounds of the town seeped into the room. Gavin, who had been living underground for nearly half of his life, forgot how nice it could be. But the dark coloured sheets and the strange stone walls surrounding him all reminded him of the night before. 

Opening his eyes slowly, he felt Ryan stand up and cross the room to dress. Peering over his shoulder, he could see the amount of blades the king actually carried – all hidden under the red leather jacket that he wore. His clothes today were different, more like the ones Gavin wore for the thieves’ guild. His heart lurched at the memory, but pushed it to the back of his mind when he saw Ryan glance over at him.

The boy swallowed and sat up in bed. “Morning.”

Ryan merely nodded and continued sliding blades of various metals and finishes into leather holsters around his waist and torso. Gavin watched silently as the last few blades slid in. What was he supposed to do – wander around the castle, go into the town and see Geoff? He really wanted to see Geoff.

“Where are you going?” Gavin asked quietly, looking down at his hands on his lap.

Ryan stood up straighter, brushing his hair back from his face. “I need to check on some prisoners. Don’t worry yourself over it.”

Gavin swallowed and nodded. Ryan fixed him with a knowing look, “If you want to see your friend in town, I can arrange for Burnie to escort you there.”

“No, I can go myself.”

Ryan crossed his arms infront of his armoured chest. “You’re my husband now – that makes you a mark for guilds like the Brotherhood. You need to be protected.”

Gavin bit back a remark of how he didn’t need protecting from the Brotherhood and bowed his head. He heard Ryan’s footsteps heading around the bed, over to his side. The King leaned down and kissed Gavin’s forehead, threading his fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“I’ll send Burnie up to you within the hour,” Ryan said, pulling away from Gavin. “Get dressed.”

When Ryan strode away heading for the door, that was when Gavin found his voice again. “What about last night?”

“What about it?”

“We didn’t...”

Ryan sighed. “No. We didn’t.”

The king reached for the handle of the door, looking over his shoulder. “I won’t have you if you don’t want me to.”

Gavin skimmed his fingers over the fabric of the sheets. “What if I never want you to?” he mumbled.

Ryan shrugged. “Then in the eyes of the Divines, we’ll never be truly married.”

 

*

 

“Fuck the King!” Michael yelled as he stalked around the open fire pit in the middle of Jorrvaskr. The members of the Companions gathered in the main hall all watched their leader carefully as he cursed the tyrant. “How could he?!”

“Michael,” Miles muttered, “The Jarl will hear you.”

Michael spun on his heels and glared at the man through the flames of the pit. “I couldn’t care less of what the bastard hears!”

Miles leaned back in his chair and returned to picking at the loaf of bread that was being passed around the Companions. Michael rubbed his face with his gloved hands and muttered, “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

Caleb winced, knowing the question was directed at him. He had brought the man the message from Helgen about Ryan’s takeover of the capital. As soon as the words left his mouth, Michael stormed from the Skyforge down to the hall and called a meeting.

Caleb cleared his throat. “King Ryan has blocked off communication between the Holds,” Caleb said, watching Michael twitch at the word ‘king’. “Helgen was burnt to the ground, and not even the forests are safe. The dragons are everywhere.”

The room fell silent with Caleb’s remark. Most had heard the dragons screaming and crying through various parts of the realms, and a few had the burn marks to prove their encounters with Ryan’s favourite pets. Caleb remembers the day when Miles returned with a scorched back. He didn’t speak to anyone for days while Miles spent the weeks lying on his front while the healers rubbed ice and plants into his back to try and save the skin.

Michael toed the wooden planks of the floor before walking around the pit again. “Any news on the thief from Riften?”

“He’s alive,” Caleb replied, “but who knows how long that would last.”

Michael stared at the man. Miles cleared his throat. “Do we go after the thief, or stay in Whiterun?”

“The thief will be fine,” Michael muttered, “It’s the man in the crown I’m worrying over.”

“Why?” Caleb frowned. “The man’s gone mad.”

Miles reached over the table and slapped Caleb on the chest, glaring at the man to stop talking. “He’s not mad,” Michael bit back. 

Michael dismissed the members of the guild as some flooded into their quarters, and others headed back to the Skyforge. Michael stood staring into the flames of the pit gently warming the pots of stew they had finally been able to make with scraps of food. They flickered and sparked until a single, small ember flew out onto the floorboards and burnt a tiny mark into the oak.

The man watched the ember slowly die out before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He didn’t know whether to kill Ryan or save him. But save him from what – himself? He told him that dragons would bring dangerous magic to Skyrim. He told him.

He wandered over to one of the chairs and sat down, holding the bridge of his nose between two fingers. With the newfound leadership of the Companions, coupled with the strain of keeping the Hold together, Michael was amazed at how he hadn’t snapped yet. He had his moments of pure white rage, but was quickly swept over when Lindsay placed a hand on his shoulder and told him everything would be alright.

Lindsay.

The woman was still missing. Michael sent half of the Companions out to look for her. Hells, they turned the Southern Holds inside out looking for her, but she wasn’t to be found. The barracks of where she was supposed to be staying was littered with decaying bodies, all burnt and hanging by their necks outside the barrack walls. Whether or not Ryan knew about his relationship with Lindsey, he dreaded to guess.

“Obviously if he’s willing to wed some thief from an abandoned city, then he shouldn’t be harbouring any feelings for me,” he muttered into his clenched fist as he brought it up to his mouth.

They had been close years ago, just as the Imperial/Stormcloak war was starting. He had watched Ryan run away from the Imperial guards marching sixteen year old boys to be admitted to the army. He ran into the Whiterun Hold and didn’t come back for two years. When he did, there was something different about him.

Ryan showed up at his door and took him out into the plains outside Whiterun. They had been out here before for moments alone without their parents or guards watching their every move, but Ryan had a grin on him that Michael had never seen before.

A sheepskin satchel was slung around his shoulder was weighed down with something heavy. Michael followed him until they came across a bunch of trees to sit under from the midday sun. The pair sat down on the grass, thankful for the shade from the strangely warm Mid Year day. Once settled, Michael watched as Ryan silently opened his satchel and pulled out a large oval object, like one of the jewel rocks from Markarth. It had a scaled shell and took both of Ryan’s hands to hold it. He looked over at the redhead with bright eyes. “Well?” he asked, nodding down at the rock.

“Looks expensive,” Michael ran his fingers over the scales. He peered up at the older man. “Where did you steal it from?”

“I didn’t steal it,” Ryan frowned and tucked the rock against his chest. “And don’t say it’s expensive. I’m not selling it.”

Michael rolled his eyes and moved closer to Ryan. “Why not? You’d get a lot of gold for a rock like that. We could get a house in Markarth,” Michael wrapped his arm around the elder’s shoulder. “We could finally be alone together.”

Ryan looked at him. “It’s not a rock,” he said, handing it over to Michael. “It’s an egg.”

“An egg?”

“A dragon egg.”

The egg was a heavy thing, deep red with faded black tips over some of the scales. Michael switches gazes between the egg and Ryan’s almost triumphant look before he had to ask, “Where did you get it”?  
Ryan leaned forward and kissed the redhead’s temple. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It most certainly does matter.”

Ryan’s lips were still pressed against the boy’s skin when he looked down at the egg. He started to trail kisses down the boy’s face until he got to his neck, feeling the rising pulse beneath his skin. “Some mage in the College of Winterhold gave it to me,” he muttered, hooking a finger in the collar of the boy’s shirt to pull it down. The more skin that the shirt revealed the better, Ryan thought as he wrapped his arms around the boy and the egg still held in his arms. Ryan cast his eyes down to the red coloured egg, and smirked against Michael’s throat. “Rule with me.”

Michael tilted his head to the side to give Ryan more room. “What?”

“Rule Skyrim with me,” he repeated. Ryan reached for the egg and rolled it over to the fabric of the satchel. When he turned back to Michael, he was met with wide eyes. “But the high king-”

“-Is nothing more than an old man dying solely from time,” he growled, leaning over the boy until he was lying against the grass of the plains. With his arms holding him above Michael, Ryan bent down and kissed Michael deeply. 

Michael pushed gently against Ryan’s chest for the elder to stop. “You’re talking about starting a war Ry,” he said, looking into the man’s eyes. 

“The Empire is already doing that for me,” Ryan smiled. With the man’s body looming over him, Michael hated to admit that Ryan looked almost scary. If he hadn’t have grown up with the man, he could have taken him for a Valley bandit with the way he had put on so much muscle just from hunting in the plains. 

Michael shook his head. War with the Empire was inevitable, he understood that. But Ryan was talking like a madman. He pushed against his chest until the man let him sit up. He wrapped his arms around his knees. Ryan watched the boy’s movements with a hooded gaze. “What?” he asked. 

Michael cast a glance down onto the dragon egg. “Please don’t do it.”

“Do what?”

“Hatch the thing,” Michael scoffed. “With wars appearing all over Tamriel, the last thing we need is dragons.”

Ryan watched the boy for a minute – the longest minute of Michael’s life. He sighed deeply, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“I love you,” Michael mumbled, reaching out to place his hand over Ryan’s armoured arm. “You know that, don’t you?”

Ryan placed the egg back in the satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Standing up, he looked at the boy one last time before smirking.  
“Yeah.”


	5. It's All Gone to the Dogs

There was nothing left in the Whiterun Plains except for ruins of forts and scorched earth. Michael stood on one of the outer city walls, getting an eagle’s view of the burnt ground. The giants and their herds of mammoths had moved on from the opened plains to the Markarth valleys.

Everyone within the guild was still sleeping as their leader ventured out to take in the damage done to the city one last time. The city walls were obliterated, and the trees growing in the city’s centre had turned to ashes. Jorrvaskr was one of the last few buildings actually skill standing. Dragonsreach palace was relatively intact – the Jarl dropped to his knees and bowed as soon as Ryan’s commanders came charging through the gates. ‘The Jarl who bowed’ is what Michael and his men took to calling the coward.

Michael cringed when he thought back to the attack on Whiterun. He couldn’t get the guild members back to Jorrvaskr fast enough. The mad scramble to get behind house walls as floods of armoured men climbed the walls was terrifying. 

Falkreath was the closest town that was somewhat safe. He had talked to Lindsay of taking the company there, and seeking the Brotherhood out. Their home underground was secure from attacks from dragons and men – and they had a common goal. Ryan needed to be overthrown, that was obvious, but Michael had doubts about Ray’s want for killing the man.

Lost in a stream of thoughts, he almost missed the sounds of heavy boots against the cobblestone below him. Caleb had his bow slung over his shoulder, holding onto a small leather bag. Michael shot the man a questioning look, before the man explained, “Miles’ back is starting to hurt again.”

Michael gave his a nod. “There should be some mountain flowers near the old farms,” he explained. “Stay close to the city.”

“I will,” he replied, heading towards the old ruins of the farms.

Michael watched the man head down the road. Miles’ back was going to be a problem – it wasn’t healing anytime soon, according to Caleb. Rumours were spreading about the College of Winterhold were taking in wounded and healing them. While spending weeks listening to Caleb’s attempts to sway Michael there, he wasn’t sure. The College was infamous for its destructive magic, not healing. And this whole thing would’ve been the College’s fault anyway. One of the mages there gave Ryan that bloody egg in the first place. 

Michael pulled at his cloak, sheltering him from a northern cold breeze. It was still the early hours of the morning, when the city was so quiet; it was almost like walking through a ghost town.

He climbed down onto the ground and made his way back inside the city, looking over the old buildings that used to line the cobblestone streets of the plains district: the forge, the hunter’s shop where he had gotten his first blade. Everything he and Ryan used to visit before he ran off into the Plains.

As hard as he would try, the image of Ryan sitting on a throne couldn’t get out of his mind. Lindsey was one of the few people who remembered the relationship the boys had together growing up. Divines know where she is now. 

He wanted her back here with him as he felt himself slowly drowning in Ryan’s madness.

 

*

 

Burnie watched the two thieves in the tavern. He had escorted Gavin to Proudspire, as per Ryan’s request, but the thieves felt more at home downing tankards of ale and wine. People looked their way, of course, with Gavin’s new position as Prince spreading like wildfire through the city. Now though Burnie kept a watchful eye on the pair – a Prince sitting with a thief was never a good sight.

“I want to go home with you and Griffon,” Gavin muttered into his cup. He heard the elder sigh as he ran his fingers along the black markings over his hands – he was thinking.

“Ryan won’t let you out of his sight,” he replied, nodding towards the captain standing at the tavern’s door. “Not with the Breton to watch over you.”

Gavin’s fingers tightened around his cup. Solitude was nice – too nice for the home of a madman. But it wasn’t Riften. He misses the feeling of the underground vaults, the trickling of water from the sewers, and the family he had spent most of his adult life with. Geoff would be leaving in a day or two, according to Ryan’s orders. He didn’t trust a master thief lurking in his city. Gavin scoffed – then why did you marry one?

Geoff watched the younger man take another gulp of ale. “I wish I could have been there.”

Gavin raised his brow. “Where?”

“At the wedding – it was nice, apparently. You have the whole city talking about you two,” Geoff smirked, but the gesture dying quickly when Gavin sighed. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No.”

“Good. I don’t care if he’s the King; if he hurts you, I’ll send every Dark Brother and Sister after him,” Geoff muttered quietly, eyeing the captain as he scanned the tavern.

Gavin flinched. “We didn’t do anything – if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”

Geoff’s brows drew together. “What do you mean you didn’t do anything?”

Gavin shrugged. The older man took in the other’s expression, and he leaned forward to whisper to him, “You didn’t consummate the marriage?”

The boy shook his head. “We’re not technically married then, are we?”

“In the eyes of the Divines – no, but when have you been one to listen to religion?” Geoff looked at the captain for a long time before muttering, “If anyone asks you, say yes.”

“What?”

“Its royal politics, lad,” Geoff said. “If the council found out that you didn’t sleep together, then you’d be in serious trouble.”

It was all a reminder of what Ryan had told him that morning – “I will not have you if you do not want me to.” 

Was Ryan not the one behind the arranged marriage? Was it the councillors giving him advice to reign in the last free Hold in Skyrim?

“Where is he now?” Geoff asked, absentmindedly skimming a finger over the top of his cup.

Gavin sighed. “Dungeons, I think. Why?”

“Watch out for the council,” the elder said, leaning back in his chair when Burnie began to stride over to them. “They’ll have your head on a pike if they find out.”

Before Gavin could speak, Burnie was looming over them. “Are you finished?” He asked, nodding down to the half-empty cup of wine. Gavin nodded and pushed back from the table to stand. “Take care of yourself, lad,” Geoff said.

“I will,” the boy smiled, before striding for the outside.

 

*

 

Falkreath was a nice place, Griffon thought to herself as she rode through the densest part of the Hold’s forest. Slivers of light crept in through the canopy overhead, and the trunks of the trees mixed with brushes provided great cover. Maybe the Guild could move operations here. But Geoff would never risk moving nearly thirty people from a protected, walled city across opened plains and into undiscovered woods. She had a few run-ins with bandits and the occasional wolf pack, but she had been in the thieving business since she was a girl – she knew how to take care of herself.

The silence was deafening, though. The only sounds were the soft puffs of breath from her horse, or the crushing of leaves beneath his hooves. It had been next to silent for nearly an hour before she pulled on her mount’s reins. It was total quiet. No travelling noises from towns, or the howls of wolves. She peered up into the canopy, reaching for the ebony blade in her boot. Not even birds were calling.

The forest suddenly turned against her as she surveyed her surroundings. She couldn’t see past a few trunks, and then the view was obstructed by berry bushes and vines. 

Still clutching the handle of her blade, she gently squeezed her legs around her horse’s sides signalling him to move forward. The heavy footfalls almost seem to thunder around the empty woodland. 

She quietly stalked her way through the path, occasionally looking forward hoping for a stretch of land to gallop. Being a thief for so long ensured that fear was something to be pushed down and hidden away – but she felt like she was being watched.

A few strides in front of her a fox darted from behind a bush onto the path, spooking her horse. He took a few steps away from the fox, throwing his head up. “Shh,” Griffon rubbed his neck. When she went to kick him forward again, a single arrow flew out of the dense forest and embedded itself into the fox’s shoulder. 

Griffon looked to the stretch of forest where the arrow had come from and saw the bodies of men pushing and trudging their way through the forest floor – all of them wearing the same black cloaks with their hoods up. Her horse blew out a breath, catching the attention of one of the figures. From the broad shoulders, Griffon could tell it was a male, but his face was covered by the low hanging point of the hood, with a scarf wrapping around his nose.

She clenched the handle of the dagger, and steadied herself on her horse, reining it into the middle of the road. The figure carried a bow in his hand, reaching for an arrow with the other. 

The other black cloaked figures all filed out onto the road, some collecting the fox’s body, the others drawing black daggers with red lines patterned into the blades. As they took their stances and the other nocked an arrow and drew, one of the figures held up his hand. 

Griffon looked to the archer, who silently lowered his bow. 

The figure took a few steps towards Griffon before she held up her dagger. The man stopped in his tracks and held up his hands, palms facing her. “You’re a thief from Riften?” 

“What’s it to you?”

The man removed the scarf from around his nose, and pulled the hood back. “I’m from the Brotherhood.”

Griffon frowned. “You’re Ray Narvaez?”

“One and only.”

The other assassins all filed behind him, sheathing their weapons and pulling back their hoods. Griffon was a bit taken back by a few of them – their faces were scarred, and some even had scorched marks from what she presumed would’ve been embers. Ray had a scar over his eyebrow that ran down his left cheek, over the bone and down to the corner of his lip.

“The Brotherhood’s gone to the dogs,” he said, gesturing to the maimed members that remained. “What with Ryan’s rule and his dragons terrorising the province.”

Griffon eyed the men infront of her. “How did you know I was from the guild?”

Ray shrugged. “I met one of your kind before – nice lad; he got me out of a sticky situation. I owe him a debt, but I haven’t heard from him.”

“What was his name?”

“Gavin, I think.”

Griffon squared her shoulders. “What did Gavin do to help a Night Brother?”

“An Orc barrack in Eastmarch is not the greatest place for an assassin to end up.”

Griffon swung her leg over the horse’s back and hopped down to the ground. Brushing the shedding hairs and dust off of her armour, she asked, “What is the debt you owe him?”

“You’re an awfully curious thief,” Ray frowned. “That could get you in trouble.”

“I’ve been fine so far,” Griffon crossed her arms.

The man took in the black tint to her armour, different to the brown coloured one Gavin wore – she’s a guild leader then. “In our order, despite what many Nords might think, we respect a person’s honour. Since that boy saved me from a terrible fate with the Orcs, I gave him the opportunity to kill someone of his choosing. Several months later – I haven’t heard a word from him.”

“Because he’s been shipped off to Solitude by my husband,” Griffon commented. “He’s married to the King now.”

Ray paled. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago.”

The men behind him looked at each other before muttering amongst themselves. Ray turned to look at Griffon.

“How long would it take to get to get to Solitude?”


	6. Dragonspeak

Seated in the council room of the Blue Palace, Ryan leaned back in his chair. “This better be good, Kerry,” he warned, drumming his fingers over the wooden table. The youngest member of the High council squirmed in his seat as the elder members all glared in his direction. Infront of him was a single emerald coloured bottle, similar to the ones the mages kept their potions in.

“It was my idea, m’lord,” Gus, one of the other council members stated. He wasn’t nearly as old as the others, but just as cunning. Ryan would have admired him for it, if it wasn’t for the insistent meetings that he called. A king had an entire province to rule, and he certainly couldn’t do that within council chamber walls.

Kerry and Gus exchanged a brief look. “With Riften now inside your dominion again, your kingdom is completely under your control.”

Ryan tilted his head to the side. “And your point, Gus?”

“It won’t stay that way.”

At the end of the long table, Gus reached for the emerald potion bottle and placed it infront of him. “We’ve been working on this for many weeks, following the declaration of your marriage to the Riften thief.”

“The Riften thief has a name,” Ryan interjected. “And what exactly has the alchemists in my employment worked on for weeks?”

Gus motioned for Kerry to stand. The boy walked up to Ryan’s chair and handed him the container. Inside, a deep red liquid filled the bottle to halfway. “A poison?” He asked, looking up at Gus.

He shook his head. “Quite the opposite actually; poisons take lives away, and that provides new life.”

Ryan stopped swirling the liquid around in its bottle and shot glances between the two alchemists. Gus adjusted the folds of his robes and cleared his throat. “For a king to have complete control over a dominion such as Skyrim – there needs to be valid proof that the marriage of a king and his consort has been consummated.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“That potion was brewed for such proof,” Gus leered. The other councillors smirked to themselves, quickly dropping the amused looks when Ryan leaned forwards in his chair. Gus continued, “What better proof could you and that boy give than a child.”

“A child?”

Gus nodded. “Just slip that potion into the boy’s wine at dinner, and you can be on your merry way to parenthood.”

Kerry dropped back into the seat beside Gus. The boy was his apprentice and quite adept of creating strange and new potions. According to Burnie, the boy was a student of the College of Winterhold but was thrown out when his experiments went against the Archmage’s wishes. Someone who was willing to create such things belonged in Ryan’s court, and the King had Burnie and his men travel to the northern city to retrieve him.

“And what if I refuse,” Ryan asked. 

“Then you can say goodbye to your hold on Riften. Then Whiterun, then Markarth, then Dawnstar, and every city and hold in-between.”  
Gus held the king’s glare as best as he could. He was one of the very few members of the high council that openly argued against Ryan when his plans would go too far. Ryan listened to the conversing councillors, all echoing Gus’ observations about him losing his country. A small smug smile crept up on Gus’ lips when the king fell back into his chair. 

“Kerry,” he ordered. The boy jumped slightly. “Make sure this gets into my husband’s wine tonight.”

 

*

 

Gavin had never been outside the Rift. Of course he had been in other cities for lifts, but it was during the night and only for an hour. He wandered around the city taking in every stone that went into making the houses, the walls and the streets. Wyvern embellished flags were draped everywhere, all portraying a black dragon eating its own tail, on a crimson red background. 

Everything about the city put him off. For the seat of power for a madman, Solitude was eerily pleasant. Children running around stopped to bow to him, vendors at the stalls offered to sell him fresh cuts of meat – all things he would have killed for in Riften. Burnie was always two strides behind him, arms crossed infront of him, trailing like a shadow. 

One of the things Gavin noticed about the city’s servants to the palace was the strange markings on their skin. Some had series of lines and dots on their necks; some had it on their arms. When another man dressed in tattered clothes past him with the markings on his arm, Gavin turned to Burnie. “What’s that?”

Burnie looked taken back – the first words the boy had spoken to him since that morning. “Brandings that the King had designed for the war criminals,” the captain explained. 

“Do they mean anything?”

“Some do,” he nodded. “I’m not as well versed in Dragonspeak as the king.”

So that’s what the language looked like. Gavin eyed the black markings before turning back to the various market stalls crammed with every item necessary. “It’s almost noon, m’lord,” Burnie said. “We should head back to the Keep.”

Gavin nodded silently, watching the rest of the civilians talk amongst themselves, smile, and laugh and share their wears with each other. If all of this were still in Riften, then he could be content for his family, but the thought of Geoff having to go back to the Ratways made his heart lurch into his throat. He wanted them here with him. They were at the other side of Skyrim – a world away. 

“M’lord,” Burnie repeated, looking the boy over with a furrowed brow. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he replied quickly, seamlessly putting on a bright smile. “We should head back.”

 

*

 

Sitting next to Ryan for dinner reminded him of the wedding ceremony all over again. He didn’t eat much, mostly because the portions were enormous. He had trained himself to live on scraps of meat after herds of elk and deer fled the Rift. Now he sat here with a plate full of meat, bread, vegetables and other food he hasn’t seen for years, and feeling guilty about it. It had crossed his mind, for a brief moment, of asking Ryan to send supplies to the Ratways for his family: but he quickly dimmed the thought. Ryan wouldn’t approve, would he? He was being remarkably kind to the boy; a complete turnaround from what Gavin perceived him to be.

Ryan was leaning his chin against his fist, watching one of the alchemist mages closely. A young man, not much older than Gavin, had snuck glances up at the pair seated on their thrones atop the dais. At least when Gavin met his gaze, he quickly spun back around and continued to eat. Gavin watched the man before taking a gulp of wine from his goblet – a movement that was watched from the corner of Ryan’s eye. 

The evening drawled on and before Gavin realised it, the torches around the throne room were beginning to be quenched. From the upper windows, bright streams of moonlight beamed in through the red coloured glass.

Ryan reached out for the boy’s hand. “Come,” he said quietly. 

Gavin looked over to the king and was taken aback by what he saw. Around his eyes were slightly darker than usual, making his blue eyes flare up much brighter. Gavin wordlessly took his hand and was led through the halls. After being introduced to the markings by Burnie, Gavin began to notice that on some of the stone bricks in the walls, lines and dots were carved into the stone. 

The path from the throne room up to their quarters seemed sorter than the last time – probably because last time, Gavin was terrified of being in the same bed as a murder. But Ryan had given him his word, hadn’t he? Truthfully, he had been thinking about what Geoff had been telling him that morning. Tell people that you have consummated the marriage. Word of mouth would spread the rumour, and maybe everyone would take them for what they were – a tyrant and a thief.

Gavin stepped into the room first, taking in the newly discovered markings in some of the stones. Each of them looked similar, but no two were exactly right. Ryan strode through the room and headed into the adjoining library, leaving Gavin alone. He started to pull off his clothes, smoothing his undershirt back into place. He had meant what he had said to Ryan about not want him to touch him, but looking down at himself, he felt different. He felt his mind beginning to fog over – it wasn’t the wine. He could always hold his wine. Maybe it was something he ate. 

Gavin sat down on the edge of the bed and held his head between his hands. He could hear Ryan’s footsteps come up the steps from the library. His jacket was undone as he wandered over to a nearby table, dropping something metallic onto it.

When Ryan turned around, he flashed a confused look at the boy. “Are you alright?”

Gavin sat back up quickly, regretting it immediately as the room began to sway slightly. “Yeah, um, just feeling a bit uneasy.”

Ryan undid the laces of his vembraces and boots, dropping the items next to the table before padding over to the bed. “Do you want me to fetch the healers?”

Gavin shook his head. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Ryan shed off his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair before sliding in under the covers. 

Looking at the gold of his ring, Gavin saw the marks carved in white gold. He was sliding the ring around his finger in loops before he muttered into the dimly lit room, “What does it mean?”

“Hmm?”

“The marks on my ring?”

Ryan looked at the boy, then down at the ring. “It’s Dragonspeak.”

“I know that,” Gavin replied. “But what does it mean?”

Ryan shifted around underneath the sheets until he sat beside the boy. His finger skimmed the metal wrapped around Gavin’s finger from left to right, sounding out the word, “Ahmul. It means ‘husband’.”

“Ahmul,” Gavin echoed, watching Ryan single out the letters of the word for him. What he saw was lines and dots, Ryan saw as letters and words.

“Can you teach me other words?” Gavin asked quietly, looking over his shoulder to meet the man’s eyes. Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Since I’m going to be here for the rest of my life, I may as well see why you’re so interested in the language.”

Ryan’s lips curved into a small smile before leaning back to rest his upper back against the wooden headboard. “What word do you want to know?”

Gavin copied the king’s actions, leaning slightly into his body without realising. “King.”

“Jun.”

Gavin echoed the word, as he had done before. “And what would you call me? If one of your dragons were to ask?”

Ryan tipped his head back. “You would be a ‘ronaan’, an archer. Or a ‘rovaan’, a wanderer.”

“What about a thief?”

“’Aan Tafiir’.”

Gavin smiled at the way Ryan knew these words. It gave light to the rumours that he spoke to dragons. The way he didn’t hesitate to translate the words made him think about how the language must have taken over him. 

“It’s an old language,” Ryan sighed. “Too old for my liking.”

“Couldn’t you teach it to people? To make sure that it would remain alive?”

He shook his head. “No one remembers it for a reason. It drove people mad. The words...they aren’t just words. They’re the embodiment of something. It’s difficult to explain.”

“I understand,” Gavin shrugged, feeling the room finally settle around him once again. Whatever illness had struck him, he passed, and now he realised that he was a lot closer to the king than he would have first hated. 

Ryan turned to look him over. “I thought you were tired?”

Gavin stared at the man, trying to move away from him but not having the will to do so. The sounds of the town outside died down as Gavin found his head drifting heavily down to Ryan’s.

The King’s hand suddenly shot up to clasp around the boy’s neck, pulling him down to meet the man’s lips. Ryan’s other arm went to wrap around his lower back. Running his hands down Ryan’s chest, he could feel the man’s heartbeat.

When they both pulled away, Gavin opened his eyes to look down at Ryan. He was sitting in his lap with his hands on his chest. How in Divines’ names did this happen? “We don’t have to,” Ryan mumbled, going for Gavin’s neck to trail small kisses down to his throat. 

“I...” Gavin tilted his head to the side. “I want to.”

“Alright,” Ryan muttered against the warming skin of Gavin’s neck, leaning back and sliding his hand up the boy’s thighs. Gavin obeyed silently when Ryan spread his legs around his own, feeling suddenly vulnerable. Something must have happened during last night and now – from Gavin to go from not wanting the elder to touch him, to contently sitting in his lap, was a move too far.

He didn’t push away when Ryan kissed him again, harder this time with bumping noses and chins. When Ryan’s lips brushed against his, Gavin couldn’t help but lean into him, opening his mouth to taste his lips. Ryan flicked his tongue against his and the king’s hands went to lightly brush the younger’s lower back. Gavin slid his arms around Ryan’s neck, pulling him in tighter for a deeper kiss. His touch was electric, setting Gavin’s skin tingling wherever Ryan’s skin grazed his.

Gavin’s fingers slid into Ryan’s hair, looking softer now than it normal did underneath that ebony dark crown with the daunt spikes and dragon heads. Gavin smiled into their kiss and released Ryan’s mouth again to look into the king’s eyes – the blue overtaken by dilated black pupils.

“Are you sure,” Ryan rasped, shifting his weight to deposit Gavin onto his back. With his arms still draped loosely around the elder’s neck, Gavin silently nodded: accepting another deep kiss without questioning. Pulling apart only for air and to remove what loose clothing remained on them, the two lay hidden under the sheets, kissing and touching everywhere they could.

Gavin felt Ryan’s fingers pressing at his entrance. He groaned and spread his legs wide, and gasped at the sharp, exquisite feeling of Ryan’s finger popping inside. “Gods, yes,” Gavin tilted his hips more, eager.  
Ryan obliged, and pushed in further, twisting around to add another. Gavin groaned and bit Ryan’s lip. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Gavin,” Ryan muttered against the boy’s lips. 

“I want to do this, I swear on the Divines.”

“As you wish,” Ryan answered and Gavin felt the blunt head of Ryan’s dick against his hole. 

Ryan hovered above him, their eyes locked together as Ryan finally pushed inside him. “Fuck yes…” Gavin hissed. “Oh, gods. Oh, fuck,” Gavin pulled Ryan down against his chest and Ryan sunk deeper inside him. “You feel so good,” Gavin said against Ryan’s neck and used his teeth to scrape along Ryan’s thick shoulder. 

“Gavin,” Ryan said against Gavin’s hair and moved inside him. 

Gavin’s fingers dug into Ryan’s hips, pulling him tighter and faster, tucking his knees against Ryan’s sides 

Gavin gasped sharply when Ryan’s hand started to pump Gavin’s dick. Gavin shouted as he came, eyes rolling back in his head with a bright flame of orgasm. Ryan gently rolled his hips as Gavin came slowly down from it, leaning hard on his prostate, rocking into him until Gavin thought he might pass out. Ryan’s body trembled and shook, eliciting a growl from deep in Ryan’s chest. Gavin cried out along with him

Ryan pressed his face into Gavin’s neck, his breathing hot against his skin. Gavin put his hands against Ryan’s cheeks and pulled him up for a deep kiss. He was so enthralled with him, wanted him everywhere, all the time. He’d never felt anything so powerful.

They continued to kiss and touch long after the orgasms’ hold faded. Gavin felt waves of exhaustion overtaking him and his mind drifted. 

“Ryan,” he whispered breathlessly, feeling his warm body move away. A moment later he thought he felt a cool cloth, but he wasn’t sure. He felt the bed dip down, followed by the feeling of Ryan’s arms wrapping around him.

Ryan sighed, sinking back into the bed as Gavin quickly fell asleep. He traced patterns into the boy’s exposed back with his fingers, gently writing out words like ‘ahmul’, ‘fron’, ‘zind’.

His fingers trembled over the final word he managed to write on the boy’s skin before falling asleep. 

‘Saviik’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DRAGONSPEAK TRANSLATIONS FOR THE LAST FEW WORDS**
> 
> Ahmul - Husband  
> Fron - Kin/Related - As they are both Nords. 'Kinsman'  
> Zind - Triumph  
> Saviik - Saviour
> 
> (Don't forget to comment and kudos; thank you my lovelies :) )


	7. My Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..Ryan is the Dovahkiin, getting that piece of information out of the way. If you could imagine, instead of defeating dragons like Alduin, he turned into Daenerys Targaryen and kept them as adorable pets. Because when I play Skyrim...I don't kill them :I
> 
> That's all I want in life. 
> 
> Ryan Targaryen. First of his Name.
> 
> Dayum.

Ryan had woken up first. To be fair, the King didn’t get that much sleep as his mind tried to figure out what to do about his kingdom. He glanced down at the boy lying against him, arm slung around the elder’s waist. Gus would have his proof, and maybe the kingdom would be under his complete control.

He thought about how quickly Gavin fell into the effects of the potion – his reluctance to even touch the elder was long forgotten when Ryan kissed him. Gavin still slept wrapped around Ryan’s side, breathing heavily. What would he tell the boy? He knows that Ryan doesn’t trust the alchemists. Maybe he could say that they put him up to it, because after all, they kind of did. 

“Zu’u krosis, fahdon,” Ryan whispered he untangled Gavin’s arm from his waist. “I’m sorry.”

He gently slid out from bed to retrieve his clothing, all the while watching the boy for any movement. Gavin shuffled underneath the sheets, but settled against pillows with a heavy sigh.  
Sliding on his knife belt and grabbing his jacket, he quietly made his way out of the room and down the flights of stairs until walking past Gus on the final staircase. The mage had a smile creeping up his face as he said, “I take it you and that boy have followed my order?”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek at the word “my”. 

Gus sneered, “Well then, I’ll inform the council that they’re no need to treat you like a child any further.”

Ryan snapped. He threw himself forward, forcing the mage back into the stone railing of the stairs. With his hands clenching the fabric of his robe, Gus’ torso was pushed over the railing. “Let me make something clear to you,” Ryan spat as the mage’s hands fumbled around the railing trying to get a grip on the stone. “I am the King. I am a dovah. You do not give orders to me.”

Ryan’s grip on the mage’s robes loosened slightly as he pulled the mage up to his face. “If you ever speak to your Jun again, I’ll decorate the floor below us with your blood. Do I make myself clear?”

Gus nodded stiffly, straightening himself when Ryan let go. “Apologies, m’lord,” he said bitterly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

 

*

 

When Ryan entered the caverns underneath the Blue Palace, the sound of the obsidian doors groaning shut again caught the attention of the dragons perched in crevasses and broken pillars above him. Some of the younger dragons, merely yearlings, staggered to their feet and opened out their wings; gliding seamlessly down to the cavern floor, stumbling as they landed. ‘They’re learning’, Ryan smiled to himself. 

One of the youngest, hatched only a few weeks ago, jostled around the dirt floor until Ryan knelt on one knee in front of the hatchling, holding out his hand. “Drem yol lok, dovah,” he smiled as the dragon dug his claws into the leather gauntlet on Ryan’s arm, climbing up his arm to perch happily on his shoulder. 

As the cavern expanded, Ryan observed the bare bones that lay against the sides of the cave’s walls. Some of his pets had bones clutched in their talons, chewing on the marrow. He would have to send Burnie’s men out to the Holds to hunt again. 

Torches lit the cavern in a gentle glow – his pets didn’t need the light, but he did. The doors leading out onto the bay were locked, and from the look of scorched rocks on the walls, he could tell the dragons were growing impatient.

The hatchling on Ryan’s shoulder chirped slightly, rubbing his soft scaled face against the King’s cheek. Ryan smirked and rubbed the tip of the hatchling’s snout with his finger. It had been so long since he could actually dote on his dragons, since most had reached adulthood and had harsh, chain-mail skin. They elders started to climb down the walls of the caves, abandoning their bones and venturing down to meet Ryan.

He smiled when one of the eldest dragons – Dranys – shoved past the others, spreading his wings and hissing slightly. The dragon perched on Ryan’s shoulder slinked away, hiding behind the King’s neck and letting the claws on his wings dig into the King’s armour.

“Zeymah,” the dragon strode towards Ryan bowing his head slightly. 

Ryan reached up to place his hand on the dragon’s snout, feeling the hot breath blow down onto him. Dranys was different that the other dragons he had – he had six limbs instead of four, with him standing on four legs and two broad wings stretching out from his shoulder blades. His head was similar to the shape of Ryan’s crown – spikes jutting out of his jaw line with two large horns curving out of the top of his skull. His scales were a deep blood red, with dark shadows around his snout and eyes making his amber eyes shine brighter than any of the gold Ryan has locked up in the vaults.

The dragon breathed heavily when Ryan’s hand met the hot scales of his nose. His eyes bore into the blue of the king’s. “You smell different, Zeymah.”

“Do I?”

The dragon snorted loudly. “You smell of Mun...of Nord,” his hissed, unfurling his wings. 

Ryan held in the smirk that threatened to break onto his face, placing his other hand on the dragon’s cheek, just over where the dark coloured horns began. “He is no threat, my dov.”

The other dragons, ranging from yearlings to elders slinked back into the shadowed edges of the cave. Ryan frowned. “You fear my kind?”

“You are not man,” Dranys snorted, leaning into the man’s touch slightly. “You are us. You are dovah.”

The hatchling on Ryan’s shoulder chirped in agreement as he clawed down the man’s arm to sniff at Dranys’ snout. The elder huffed a breath, knocking the hatchling off centre slightly. Ryan’s hand left the dragon’s cheek and caught the youngling before he tumbled off of his arm. The hatchling was so small compared to Dranys and the other, that his body fit into the palm of Ryan’s gloved hand, with his tail wrapping around his wrist to keep him from falling.

Dranys’ eyes bore into Ryan. “Hin hokoron; nust hon!” he breathed. “The enemies you make hear about us.”

“All of Tamriel has heard about you,” Ryan corrected him. “That’s why the gates are locked.”

“We grow tired of your cages. We need to fly.”

“And when the people see you, they’ll shoot you out of the sky,” Ryan said, looking over to the other dragons. “I’m protecting you.”

Dranys snorted and pulled his head away, slinking away over to a bone with scraps of meat still on it. The clicking of claws against the rock of the cavern echoed through the cave.

Ryan untangled the hatchling from his arm and deposited the creature to the floor. Ryan turned to walk back to the entrance, ignoring the chirps and cooing of the hatchling weaving under his legs. 

“Dovahkiin,” Dranys called, settling himself underneath the light of a torch. Ryan looked over his shoulder at the dragon. “Dovah nis nok.”

“I’m not lying to you, my friend,” Ryan replied, turning to leave the caves and head back to his quarters.

 

*

 

Gavin woke to the sound of the bedroom door shutting closed, followed by the clicking of leather boots against the marbled floor. His eyes squinted open, and then closing tightly when the morning light became too much. He ran his hand through his hair, fixing it back into place. The footsteps passed the bed, and disappeared down the small steps into the adjoining library.

Gavin made to relax back into the bed again when his eyes shot open. Memories of last night flooded back into his mind, making his breathing become laboured. Ryan slept with him. He didn’t push the elder away like he would’ve; he just sat contented in his lap.

He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard of the bed, surveying the room. His clothes lay hung over the back of a nearby chair, neatly lain out. The sound of a chair’s legs squeaking against the floor came from the next room, followed by the gentle thump of a book on a table’s surface. Gavin threw the sheets off of his body and padded over to his clothes.

The balcony doors were opened slightly, bringing in a gently cool northern breeze, smelling of the harbour the lay beneath the Palace. As he pulled on his clothes, he could hear Ryan shuffling around in the room next to the bedroom. Sheets of parchment were being moved around, and scrolls sprawled out. With his trousers and undershirt on, he padded over to the opening to the library. Ryan sat infront of a pile of papers and opened out books, tracing lines of texts with his fingers and muttering to himself in a language Gavin didn’t catch.

It must’ve been Dragonspeak since the word ‘dovah’ was spoken. Gavin hadn’t heard the Dragonspeak often enough to form any knowledge on the language, but dovah was a word everyone knew as ‘dragon’. Ryan continued to mutter sentences in the foreign language, with harsh sounding words colliding into each other in hisses. 

Gavin stepped down onto the first step into the small library, making a slight creak under his weight. Ryan stopped muttering and turned to look at the man over his shoulder. The boy remained frozen on that one step, before shaking himself back when Ryan asked, “Do you want anything?”

He shook his head. “I just heard you come in,” he explained quietly, stepping down onto the next step. 

“Apologies if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

Gavin’s gaze landed down on the scrolls – all marked with lines and dots, with dragon emblems along the parchments’ edges in coloured inks. Ryan caught the boy’s gaze. “Do you want to learn?”

Gavin frowned. “What?”

“I can teach you words,” Ryan shrugged, tracing the lines of text. Gavin shuffled over to where the king stood, watching as he singled out words from a long scroll held together by jewelled poles. 

“Krein,” Ryan pronounced, turning to face Gavin. “It means sun.”

Gavin repeated the word out loud, then again in his mind. He took in the lines of text, watching Ryan’s fingers trail through them, trying to find simple words for him to translate and understand. His finger halted over one of the last words. 

“What does that mean?” Gavin asked after a long pause. 

Ryan sighed. “Dovahkiin. It literally translated into Dragonborn.”

Gavin’s breath hitched. He had heard of the dovahkiin rumours when he was a boy, when the dragons started to come back into the world and the war was starting. People in Riften always talked about the man in Helgen who avoided being executed because of a dragon attack. 

Gavin’s eyes flicked up to Ryan. “You’re the Dragonborn, aren’t you?”

Ryan nodded silently, withdrawing his hand from the scroll. “Once, maybe...but not anymore. At least, not to the Greybeards.”

“Why not?”

Ryan pulled out one of the chairs, gesturing for Gavin to sit. When the boy complied, he reached for a nearby goblet. “You know what the dovahkiin is supposed to do?”

Gavin nodded. 

“Well I didn’t, until the Greybeards told me. I spent months up on top of that bloody mountain, speaking in nothing but Dragonspeak to old men in dusty robes. I hated it, but I needed to control my voice.”

Ryan sat down on the seat next to Gavin’s running his finger over the rim of the goblet in his hand – a habit Gavin had noticed about the man. He took a deep breath, staring emotionlessly at the wall opposite them. “One of the Greybeards, Arngeir, eventually told me that in order to understand my power; I needed to kill a dragon called Alduin. But I couldn’t.”

Gavin frowned. “You couldn’t kill a dragon?”

“No,” Ryan laughed. “According to him, I was the first Dragonborn not to take a dragon’s life, but to give life to one.”

The king looked over at his husband and noticed the confused face. Sheltered away in Riften, the boy must have never heard. “I went to the College of Winterhold to collect something for one of the Greys. I met a mage there; clever man, adept in magic and the knowledge of it. He said he knew who I was, and what I was, and handed me an egg. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but something within me said that I should keep it.”

“What was the mage’s name?”

Ryan sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Jack Pattillo, I believe.”

Gavin’s eyes grew wide. “He’s the Archmage in the College now.”

“It was a long time ago,” Ryan shrugged. 

The pair fell into silence as the sounds of the city outside came in through the window. He heard Ryan’s sigh, followed by a mumbled, “Dovahkiin los ok dovahkriid. Dragonborn is his dragon-slayer.”

“Alduin is the ‘he’?”

“Unfortunately.”

Gavin leaned forward in his chair, reaching out for Ryan’s hand that lay on the table’s surface. He hesitated slightly before resting his hand over Ryan’s gloved one, meeting the curious glance the king gave him. “I heard about you story when I was younger,” Gavin admitted quietly. “That’s why I was hesitant on coming here. Your name gets around a lot.”

“Does it?”

Gavin nodded. “You’re not the mad king everyone says you are.”

Ryan barked a laugh. “Is that what the Southern Holds are calling me? The mad king.”

“Amongst other things,” Gavin shrugged, smiling lightly at the King’s laugh. “I don’t think it’s true though. You were...”

“I was what?”

“You were thrown into a life you didn’t want,” Gavin said coolly. “Having someone tell you that the lives of people depend on a decision you need to make.”

Ryan looked at the boy calmly. “Like you did?”

“Like I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DRAGONSPEAK TRANSLATION** - I do try an recreate what the beloved Paarthunax and Alduin do, in saying their lines in their language, then repeating what was relevant in the common tongue.
> 
> Zu’u krosis, fahdon - I apologise, friend  
> Drem yol lok, dovah - Greetings, dragon  
> Zeymah - Brother  
> Mun - Man  
> Hin hokoron; nust hon! - Your enemies; they hear!  
> Dovah nis nok - Dragons cannot lie
> 
> (Don't forget to leave some feedback in the comments, and hope you're all enjoying reading this as I am writing it ^L^)


	8. Lady of Valenwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ELVEN LANGUAGE [NOT FROM SKYRIM BECAUSE THERE ARE VIRTUALLY NO WORDS...]**  
> Utinu en lokirim - Son of Snakes/A Dishonest Person  
> Dolle naa lost - Your head is Empty
> 
> **DRAGONSPEAK**  
> Fahliil - Elf

Lindsay watched the group of soldiers conversing in the woodland’s clearing. 

Bow in hand, and arrow nocked, she looked down the steel point of the arrow to the nearest royal guard: Joel Heyman. The Mad King’s shadow had been lurking in the southern holds for weeks, eventually raiding her barracks and destroying most of her troop. How she managed to get out of the burning castle, she had no idea; the smoke and flames still lingered around her even as she hid in the Valley’s dense mountainside trees.

Joel was conversing with the other royal guards. Recognising none of them from her pursuit, she kept her aim locked on the back of Joel’s head. The tip of the silver, steel arrow shone with purple liquid – a poison acquired from her friends back home in Valenwood. All she needed to do was get an artery, and then the King’s shadow would be no more.

Around Joel and his guards were makeshift carriages hauled by large-built horses. In each cramped carriage were Stormcloak soldiers, each without their armour and in rags instead. From her perch in the tree, she couldn’t see how many carriages there were, but from the way Joel had been pacing around the camp screaming orders, she could tell there was a lot more than he needed. 

“Eyes on the prey, not the horizon,” she whispered under her breath – the Companions’ own motto. Sometimes, she thought, that if she didn’t have that motto, she’d be a Dark Sister instead of a warrior. That terrified her. She had heard of Ray and his band of killers, and admired them in a strange kind of way. But it was dishonourable – life should be lost on the battlefield, not when your opponent has no idea that you’re there. 

The muscles in her arm started to cramp as she held her position perched in the tree, arrow drawn back so that the feather touched her cheek. Her legs cramped and she swore that something in her shoulders was starting to give out as her arms quivered slightly. 

She would have to take the shot soon, regardless of whether she could hit Joel or not.

Once the man was standing with his back to the tree she was in, she muttered his name under her breath and let the arrow fly. The feathered end whipped past her face, nicking the corner of her lip before flying off into the forest clearing. The arrow knocked against a small branch, making the slightest of sounds – but even she could tell that this wasn’t going to do it. Joel had been working under Ryan for years, and Divines only know what he did to the man to change him.

At the slight knocking sound, Joel spun around on his heel and reached out with a gloved hand to grab the wooden stem of the arrow, the point centimetres from his nose. He let out a slight chuckle and snapped the arrow in half, surveying the treetops. Lindsay slinked back to lean against the trunk of the tree, hoping desperately that the thick leaves and branches would hide her.

“What do we have here, gentlemen?” He chuckled, drawing his sword with a deafening screech. The other guards had the hands locked around sword pommels and bow handles, each looking frantically into the treetops. Joel strode around the edge of the clearing. “A bandit? A thief? An assassin?”

The prisoners inside of the carriages all looked to each other – most of them were probably from one of those guilds to begin with. Maybe they were hoping for escape. Joel turned to faces his men, nodding them off in various directions to start moving through the thick forest floor. Lindsay kept her position in the tree – stock still and breathing through her nose, her eyes never leaving Joel’s armoured body.

He looked down at his hand were he still clutched the broken pieces of the arrow. He brought the point up to his nose and sniffed it, smirking at the identified poison. “Wolfsbane,” he said quietly, laughing slightly. “We have a wood elf on our hands, gentlemen.”

The chuckling of Joel’s men came from under her. Peering down, there was one red armoured man marching off into the deep forest. She could take him out silently, but she wouldn’t risk her position for a “could”. “What would a wood elf be doing so far from Valenwood?”

Joel turned to look over his shoulder – looking straight towards the tree in which Lindsay hid. The arrow’s poison residue still left smudged on the leaves, and with the heightened senses that the Mad King must have given him; Lindsay knew that he had found her. 

Joel’s head tilted to the side, as though he were peering through the slits between the leaves. “Why don’t you come down here darling and we can talk?”

Lindsay’s grip on the handle of her bow tightened as she contemplated getting another arrow from her quiver. There was a pause between the two before Lindsey quickly snatched an arrow and nocked it. 

Drawing the string back to her cheek, a sudden searing pain went through her left thigh. The grip on the arrow loosened as she looked down and saw an arrow embedded into her leg. Blood started to seep out into her light brown breeches, turning it darker and darker until the pain subsided slightly until she moved. Courses of white hot pain flashed up and down her leg, from her toes to her hip, she found that even thinking about moving the injured limb seemed painful.

Eventually, her leg gave out as it slipped on the moss coated branch and practically dragged her down to the ground with a loud thud. The pain of her side hitting the ground was nothing to the pain in her leg. She lifted her head off of the forest floor and saw a guard with a drawn bow, ushering others over to gather her from the ground. 

When two steel plated guards caught her shoulders, she jerked her right arm away and elbowed the nearest guard in the shin. Remembering what Michael thought her, she waited for the thump of a body kneeling to the ground before reaching into the side of her boot and drawing an elven dagger. She drew a long swing and caught the guard’s neck from a small opening between his helmet and his body armour. The cut, although small, let a stream of blood pour out from the gleaming steel plates of his armour until his body fell forward. The other guard tightened the grip on her shoulder, squeezing until she could have sworn that bones would be shattered. Tossing the dagger to her other hand, she copied the movement, but meeting the hard plate of body armour, not even making a scratch. 

The guard holding her shoved her face first into the forest floor and placed a boot on her injured leg. The Companions’ Guild prepared their warriors for pain, but Lindsay still screamed and sobbed when the tiniest bit of pressure was applied. 

She could hear footsteps approaching her. Twisting her head to look up at the man towering above her, she frowned at Joel’s victorious smirk. “A lone Companion,” he drawled, twirling the arrowhead in his gloved hand. 

“I wasn’t alone;” she spat, “until you and your men came thundering into our fort.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “That was your fort? Divines forgive me darling, I had no idea.”

The man took in Lindsay as his guards hauled her to her feet. He noticed the slight wince when she tried putting weight on her injured leg. For a wood elf, Lindsey didn’t look very much like the others that Joel had come across and slaughtered. Her skin wasn’t nearly as dark, and her hair was deep red, with white tips at the ends of her hair. With her hair down, the points to her ears were covered, and if it weren’t for the reckless attitude; she might pass off as a Nord. 

Lindsay kept her eyes locked to the forest floor, eventually straying over to the carriages of watching prisoners. They all looked the same in tattered robes and long, unkempt hair hiding bruised faces. Joel noticed Lindsay looking at the prisoners and chuckled. “Did you come to rescue them, Elf?”

Lindsay tore her eyes from the prisoners and bore a glare to Joel. “Go fuck yourself, Utinu en lokirim” she spat.

Joel laughed. “A ‘son of snakes’? You should be speaking to a king’s soldier with more respect.”

“Dolle naa lost,” she replied. The elf was going to be a problem, Joel thought to himself. He couldn’t shove her in with the other prisoners. Divines know what escape plan she would hatch with them. Joel smiled, and turned to an approaching guard. “Get some rope and a horse – she’s riding beside me.”

The guard nodded and wandered to a lone piebald mare, returning to Joel with a handful of thick woven rope. The guard holding onto Lindsay shoved her arms forward for the rope to bid her wrists together. From the corner of her eye, she could see some men gathering her quiver and bow when it fell off of her shoulder. The feeling of her knife belt being undone came from behind her as she was shoved forward. Joel grabbed onto her arm and led her over to the horse.

“Let me explain how this is going to work,” he muttered quietly, only loud enough for them to hear. “I’m getting this lot to the king for whatever crazed punishment he has in store for them. Until then, you do what I say, when I say, without any questions. Do I make myself clear, Fahliil?”

She could feel the grip on her arm tighten as he muttered the dragon’s word. She nodded.

“Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved doing Songfics, and this is exactly what this is. So I've decided to reveal the songs that are influencing where these relationships and plotlines are going, so if you want to know what happens to our lovelies, just listen to the lyrics...unless I do a complete 180 turn...
> 
> Gavin + Ryan - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cY3g6N5Sokk  
> Michael + Ryan COMBINED WITH Michael + Lindsay - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6BBksAK0f0g


	9. Dragonsfire

Ryan watched Gavin walk the palace’s gardens from his balcony. He wandered through the maze of hedges and vines with one of the stable hands, Barbara. The two had spent days talking about anything and everything, and Ryan was happy that Gavin was starting to cheer up. The cough coming from the door behind him reminded that he wasn’t alone in the room.

“Are you going to tell him?” Burnie asked, picking at the leather of his gauntlets. 

Ryan sighed and leaned against the balcony railing. “I’ll have to.”

The thought of telling Gavin about the potion he took had been haunting him for days. If Gus and Kerry’s concoction did work, then there would be no hiding it. Burnie had been his closest advisor, and one that he actually trusted. 

“If it does work,” Burnie said, walking out onto the stone floored balcony. “You could slip him nightshade tea or something. Kill it before it has a chance to breathe.”

Ryan looked over his shoulder at the captain. “I think Gavin would notice if I made him drink nightshade tea. It would raise some questions, wouldn’t it?”

“If you slipped in something into his wine once before, I’m sure you can do it again.”

“It wasn’t me. It was that apprentice of Gus’.”

Burnie scoffed. “If you want, I could have the two of them thrown into the sea.”

Ryan laughed. “Thank you my friend, but as much as I hate to admit it, I need them.”

The captain nodded and looked down at the pair wandering through the gardens. It was the first time Burnie had seen the boy smiling and laughing as he walked with Barbara. He should be down there looking after the boy, but Ryan wanted to talk to him, and Gavin was proving that he could be trusted not to make a grand escape.

Ryan pushed form the railing and strode back into the bedroom, weaving around wooden furniture to disappear into the library. The table was still covered with opened scrolls and stacks of books. Burnie eyed the table. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“A way out, preferably,” Ryan replied, flicking through a few sheets of parchment before finding one with a blue, bear-head emblem stamped on the top corner. “The Stormcloaks are marching, according to Kyle.”

Burnie took the letter from Ryan and scanned through it. They were moving through Morthal, and planned on attacking the palace from the east. Burnie looked up at Ryan. “I’ll have guards at every entrance and exit, sir.”

“They needed to be taken care of now,” he replied. 

“They’re in the Hjaalmarch Hold, now,” Burnie sighed. “Attacking them there would only worsen the wars.”

Ryan opened his mouth to respond when a knock came from the bedroom door. Ryan brushed past the captain and walked over to meet Kerry at the door. “What do you want?”

“The council has called a meeting, your Grace,” the boy muttered, looking down at the ground. He could feel Ryan tense up infront of him. 

“When you say ‘the council’, do you mean Gus?”

He nodded.

“Tell him I have better things to be doing than listening to that mage.”

Kerry turned and disappeared down the landing. Taking a deep breath, Ryan turned to look at Burnie over his shoulder. “Is the thief still in Riften?”

“Ramsey? Yes, I believe so.”

“Get him out,” he muttered. 

 

*

 

Michael, Caleb and Miles wandered through the plains of the Hold, leading the rest of the Companions. They tried to avoid the road, preferring the cover of the trees and mounds of land jutting out of the earth. The walls of Whiterun faded as they approached Rorikstead. 

The town, like many within the Hold, had been long abandoned because of dragon attacks. When Whiterun closed its gates after occupying too many refugees, people fled to just about anywhere that would take them. 

The group stopped to water the horses and make sure that the supplies they carried were still there. Miles and Caleb offered to scout ahead and make sure there lands were clear before advancing. When the pair disappeared behind hills, Michael looked back on the remaining companions. They all had scars, burns and bruises – all from their encounters with Ryan’s soldiers. They had tried to take the city, and while the Jarl gladly gave them control, Michael and the guild refused their rule. They had been attacked in the streets, at inns and stores, and even Caleb earned a scar over his lip when a soldier attacked him at their own forge.

Caleb had intercepted messages between Ryan and his soldiers, and the marching of the Stormcloaks on Riften would give them an opportunity to slip in unseen. From Rorikstead, it was a two day hike to into Hjaalmarch, then a further week until they got into the Haalfingar hold. From there, it would be a matter of time before they could come up with a plan of attack and execute it.

When the pair came back from scouting, Michael noticed the slight wince given by Miles when he went to back against a rock. Michael had the idea in his mind to send him to the College and get medical help when he saw how badly Miles’ back had gotten over the last few weeks. It was red and raw, with blisters that looked like scales along his spine. The Companions’ armour was heavy and thick, made for protecting the body against swords and arrows. Divines know how hot dragonfire must have been to melt the leather and metal of the armour, scarring Miles’ back in the process. 

“Miles,” Michael said quietly, “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” he held up his hand, settling back with a heavy sigh. 

Michael watched him for a few minutes before turning to Caleb. “Did you see anything?”

Caleb shook his head. “Nothing to be seen until we hit the marshes, and then it’s anyone’s guess as to what’s out there.”

Michael nodded. 

The Companions rested as the sun shone through gathering storm clouds over the Reach’s mountains. Many over them rested against each other, eyes closed. The rain that fell the night before was harsh, making the ground soft and damp. The walls and roof over Jorrvaskr creaked with the force of the storms winds, waking everyone. They had all huddled around the fire pit when the choice of sleep was long forgotten, listening to the storm outside and what it was doing to the city outside. A creak of a falling tree sounded through the Companions’ home, followed by the loud crash when it fell into the neighbouring house. 

There was something more than the wind though.

Even now at midday, Michael still heard the words echoing through his mind.

“STRUN BAH QO”  
“Storm – Wrath – Lightning.”

Whether the storm was Ryan’s doing, he didn’t know for certain. But no other Companion had heard the defined words being screamed from the Throat. The Greys had been perched up in that mountain for too long to be concerned with anyone below them – even their Dragonborn.

The storm eventually subsided at dawn, when Michael heard “LOK VAH KOOR”. A different voice. A deeper voice than the one before; not as cracked, or as old. 

Michael smiled to himself when he thought of Ryan making the storm go away. He had a faint smile on his lips when he led his followers out of the Whiterun walls and out onto the plains. Even now, he smirked at the thought.

“How long are we resting for?”

Caleb’s voice beside him made Michael jump slightly. “An hour at most; get some sleep.”

The people around him fell into silence as the only sounds came from the gushing water of a nearby river. Once crossed, it was a straight march north into Hjaalmarch. Michael made sure that every potion and vials of medicine and poisons were brought with them. Their weapons were laced with the poisons that Lindsay acquired from her homeland. The frostbite spiders in the marches were unpredictable at best. Whatever members of the Companions remained had earned their rights to be within the guild – they were warriors with their fair share of battles. They could handle it.

Michael ad started to slip into sleep when a faint roaring sound was head. His instincts jolted awake as his hand went for the pommel of his sword, and he swung up into a crouched position. He had moved a few feet from the rest of the company, and from looking at their sleeping forms, he must’ve been the only on to hear it. 

Scanning the skies, he swallowed at the silhouette of a dragon soaring above the neighbouring valleys of the Reach. It circled around the grassy hills, weaving in and out of cliff-faces and trees before calling out again. The roar sounded low, almost like a sound of pain. Michael shuffled forward, still keeping to the cover of the mounds of land sheltering him. The dragon had emerald green scales and long, broad wings, with an armoured tail with a fin-like appendage on its tip. 

He stole a glance over to the company and back to the dragon. Though far away, he knew from experience that dragons could eat away at distances with little effort. That was why he stopped taking jobs from the Reach. The place became Ryan’s second home as he let his dragons fly around the valleys. Though less and less had been spotted, he didn’t want to risk anyone’s life against the bloody over-grown lizards.

A shuffling sound came from beside him. Miles was awake and shuffling over beside him, pulling out his bow and nocking an arrow. He gave Michael a worried look before eyeing the dragon carefully – a blood dragon was not to be messed with, none of them were. But they were bigger and stronger than the other ones that Ryan had, and the least predictable. 

“What do we do?” Miles muttered.

Michael shrugged. “Continue to Hjaalmarch, and stay out of trouble.”

Miles nodded and put the arrow back into his quiver. The dragon’s calls were still echoing through the valleys and over the plains. It did sound pained, almost crying – if Michael believed that the creatures could bare such emotions. The dragon disappeared behind a far peak, it’s calls dying out into deafening silence again.


	10. Kings and their Faults

From watching the Commander, Lindsay could tell that Joel was just as mad as the King himself. Since her capture, several of the Stormcloak prisoners had either died from infected injuries, hunger or killed by the Commander or his men.

Lindsay brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face and allowed herself to be led onto a cliff ledge. The large platform of rock overlooked the curving river as it swerved around the cliff faces. If she wanted to break free, now wasn’t the time. There weren’t a lot of flat surfaces to run across, and although she was an expert climber, she couldn’t scale the cliffs with chains around her wrists. Her greatest obstacle was Joel himself. If they had been alone, even for a minute, she may have attempted it. But they were followed by a gathering of royal guards – all trained to kill without hesitation.

Joel remained a few strides behind her when they reached the platform. A small fire was being kindled and the other guards rolled over logs to sit down on. What was left of the prisoners remained in irons huddled together against the rocks. Lindsay stayed away from them and wandered over to the cliff’s edge, looking over the rolling green hills and juniper trees lining against the rocks. The chains around her wrist were not nearly as tight as the others, with enough slack for her to move around more freely. Joel gave her a warning look as she approached the ledge. 

Lindsay held his glare before turning to look out at the river. They had heard the callings of a dragon flying above them, but Joel brushed it off and made them move forward. The sun was beginning to set and Lindsey could feel weight on her eyes. She had gone for days without sleep and the effects were starting to hit her now.

She wondered vaguely about Michael and the others. She was supposed to return to Jorrvaskr nearly a week ago. Michael would be on a rampage through the Hold trying to find her. They had been children when they met – their parents worked at the Whiterun market place. She remembers running into him and Ryan as a girl. The mock-sword fights and the adventures through the city’s walls came flooding back to her.

The warmth from the memories vanished when she felt someone stride up behind her. She didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Joel. “What do you want?” she snapped.

She heard him chuckled and run the chain’s slack through his fingers. He stood right behind her, and it would be so easy to throw her head back and hit him in the nose. 

“A lot of things,” he replied coolly, tightening the chains so that her wrists came together. “Power, gold, recognition...the list goes on.”

“Those things to go honourable men,” she bit back, turning her head to glare at him.

“And I’m not honourable?”

Lindsay held his gaze before he trailed his gloved fingers over her restrained hands. “I am in the process of removing a monarch from a throne he didn’t inherit. He’s clearly unfit for rule, and I am merely fixing the problem. I think that classifies as honourable.”

Lindsey froze. “You’re going to kill Ryan?”

Joel tightened his grip on her hands, bringing her back flushed against his armoured chest. “I plan on tearing his kingdom down before him,” he said lowly, “and burying him and his whore with it.”

The thief. She hadn’t met the boy, but Michael had told her the story of a thief from the Guild in Riften coming to his aid after he was shot with a guard’s arrow. ‘We owe him a debt’ Michael had stated to the Companions when he had recovered. ‘Anything he asks of us, we’ll do it.’

“Was it hard for you, darling?” Joel mused. “Watching the man you love, love someone else?”

Lindsay swallowed a lump in her throat. Joel felt her tense in his grip and looked over his shoulders to the other guards sitting only a few feet away. Some who had been watching the encounter take place quickly averted their eyes back down into the kindling fire. 

“Ryan is an unfit King,” Joel drawled, rubbing his thumb over Lindsay’s knuckles. “He’s weak and depends on his pets to keep his power.”

“I doubt that you’d raise your sword against a dragon,” she bit back. 

“No,” he replied. “But there are people in many Holds that agree with me.”

“They have no idea what you’re like – you’re just as mad as he is.”

Joel released his hold on Lindsay only to spin the elf around and pull her up against him. “They’re not from Skyrim.”

Lindsay pondered over his meaning before the slight smirk playing on his lips made her eyes grow wide. “You’re allying yourself with the Thalmor?”

“When Ryan subdued the Imperials, there were a lot of stray elves lurking around the mountains. I made a few promises here and there, and I have an entire embassy behind me.”

“You will not use my kinsman against the King.”

“Why do you care?” Joel argued. “It was my understanding that you wanted that King dead.”

“Not as much as I want you dead.”

 

*

 

Rain wasn’t uncommon during the summer months, as Skyrim sat on the tip of the Empire, facing out onto the Sea of Ghosts. Hearing the rumble of thunder coming from the nearby marshes, Geoff pulled his hood over his head, draping his heavy black cloak over most of his body. His horse tossed her head on hearing the thunder, but the man merely rested a hand on her withers and hushed her. 

The outer wall’s gates opened for Geoff as he left Solitude. It pained him that he had to leave Gavin in a foreign city with someone like Ryan, but it had to be done. His time staying in the Proudspire Manor was over as guards knocked on the door that morning, requesting that he leaves.

Sneaking one last glance back at the city’s high walls, he kicked his horse forward and started the long trek back to the Ratways of Riften. Guards filed past him, as did local stable-hands and a farmer, followed up by largely built sailors carrying creates of salmon and barnacles. They didn’t look at him, but kept their heads down to the pavement below them.

The clicking of his mare’s shoes against the rock pathway was the only think Geoff heard for the majority of his first day’s journey. He had past people in small villages, all noticing the layer black armour as that of the Thieves’ Guild. At least their name wasn’t truly dead. By the time he reached Dragonsbridge, the rain started to pour. The village circling the bridge was emptying as its people all ran out of the downpour into their homes. 

Geoff debated about staying in the inn for a few hours to stave off the downpour, but he had been in worse weather than this – from Winterhold’s blizzards to the South’s droughts, he could withstand anything. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder about what Gavin must be feeling now that he’s alone. If it were his choice, he would stay in the city permanently and leave Griffon in charge of the guild. It would hurt him to leave his wife and guild in a city at the other side of the country, but Gavin had become something of a son to him, and he needed protecting too.

The valleys of the Reach came into view as mountainous points jutted out into the skyline. They three of them had travelled through the marshes getting here, and from the amount of frostbite spiders that had been crawling through the land, the valleys almost seemed safer. 

Thinking back to when the soldiers knocked on the door, they were remarkably calm. To his surprise, the captain was nowhere to be seen – probably protecting Gavin inside the keep. They asked him to leave, and he was out within the hour. By their reputation as castle guards, they could have forced him out. The other thing that haunted him was that it was Ryan’s request. Not his order – his request. Geoff had a choice, didn’t he?

He glanced back – the tips of the Blue Palace’s towers still peering over the hills as he trotted away back home. 

“Good luck, my boy,” he said to himself, and kicked forward into a gallop.

 

*

 

When Gavin returned to their quarters after dinner, he was surprised to see that Ryan had already made it back. He was standing out on the balcony looking over the city below, watching the ships sail into the harbour beyond the city’s walls.

The gentle clicking of the door’s lock sounded light a clap of thunder throughout the otherwise silent room. Ryan glanced over his shoulder and flashed the boy a small smile. He pushed from the railing and strode back into the room, pausing for a second at the doorway.

Gavin undid the buckles of his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair. “Gavin,” he heard Ryan say from behind him.

The boy turned to look at him while pulling at the laces of his shirt. 

“I need to talk to you about something.”


	11. Heart of Glass

Gavin silently sat on a chair at the other side of the room, taking in what Ryan had spent the better part of an hour explaining to him. There were a few apologies laced in there somewhere, but Gavin couldn’t bring himself to care.

Ryan had tried to walk over to the boy but had been met with a cold glare. “Why?” he asked. 

The king sighed. “Gus forced my hand – I didn’t want to do it.”

“Did he hold a knife to your throat?”

“No.”

“Then he didn’t force you,” Gavin growled. “You had a choice.”

The room fell into silence. Gavin ran a hand through his hair and leaned against his fist. He knew that that sort of magic could be made by certain mages, but none were made enough to even try it – none except Gus apparently.

He closed his eyes for a minute before hearing Ryan shuffle closer to him. This time, there was no cold glare, rather an emotionless star out of the balcony’s doors and out into the night sky laced with lights.

“I’m truly sorry, Gavin,” Ryan said for the hundredth time that night. He knew that the sentiment might fall on deaf ears. “You need to understand where I stand against them.”

The mages seemed more powerful than they should be. The College had more power than it did a few years ago, the court mages and healers had freedom to do their strange and inhumane experiments with whomever they chose – apparently Gavin had been Gus’ next experiment.

Ryan had been talking about it for too long. He wanted to sleep. Something that the King did say was the possibility of drink nightshade tea to reverse the affects of the potion. The word ‘nightshade’ lingered in his mind while Ryan rambled on about how the mages made him do it, and that he has to hang onto his kingdom.

Gavin stood up from the chair and strode wordlessly over to the bed. Once under the sheets and settled, he ignored the heavy sigh from Ryan, still standing in the middle of the room. With his eyes closed, Ryan wandered around the room and blowing out the candles on the tables and desks around the room before following Gavin into bed for the night. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan muttered into silence.

 

*

 

When Gavin woke the next morning, he felt eyes on him. 

He peered over his shoulder to meet Ryan’s blue eyes looking down on him. Solitude itself seemed to go quiet outside the palace as not even the birds sang or the eagles cried. Ryan ran his hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face. Gavin took in his expression on the king’s face while his eyes were closed. In that small second, Gavin saw Ryan with his walls down. He wasn’t the mad king, or the Dragonborn, but a man.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he said quietly. “Everyone in the whole province hates me.”

Gavin remained silent.

“You need to understand: I have a kingdom to keep under my control. Before me, it was tearing itself apart, and despite what you believe Gavin, there are worse people to rule than me.”

Gavin frowned. “Like who?”

“The Thalmor,” Ryan said, watching the corners of Gavin’s lips turn up in a faint smile, but quickly faded. “A lot of people I have working for me.”

The boy inclined his head. 

“Burnie for example; before he was captain of the guard, he was in talks with the Grand Council on becoming the next High King. When I took over, I gave him the position of Captain of the Royal Guard.”

“I heard the Grand Council was murdered in their own chambers,” Gavin said bitterly, knowing Ryan’s answer.

Ryan looked at the boy lying across from him. “They were,” he swallowed. “On my order.”

Gavin sighed and pushed up from the bed, swinging his legs over the side. The silence without the other talking was deafening. The sheets behind him shuffled slightly as Ryan sat up against the headboard. Gavin averted his gaze from looking behind him. He swallowed. “If it doesn’t work...what will happen?”

It took a few moments for the boy’s meaning to register with Ryan. “People talk – rumours about a new prince or princess will spread to the nine Holds and hopefully, that will convince them.”

The King watched the boy’s back. The skin was just as pale as the rest of him, but faint red and purple marks lined sections of his back and sides. Ryan frowned at the idea of his husband retaining those marks from jails and jobs. He was a thief, wasn’t he?

Gavin peered over his shoulder and met the King’s gaze. His eyes quickly diverted from the scars and marks and out onto the window. He expected the boy to ask him to brew nightshade tea for him, and get rid of whatever it was that could be growing inside of him. But who were they to say that Gus’ potion would ever work? He had seemed pretty confident in his abilities as a mage as he practically gleamed whenever Ryan walked past him in the hallways.

“And what if it does work?” Gavin asked quietly, with Ryan almost missing what the boy said completely. “What if...”

“I guess we’ll figure something out along the way,” Ryan replied simply.

 

*

 

Council that morning was torturous; nothing but Gus’ prideful smirk and Kerry’s ramblings about goings-on within the Empire. Ryan rested the side of his head against his clenched fist, staring directly down at Gus perched at the end of the long table. 

True to his word, he hadn’t ordered anything of Ryan since their encounter on the staircase, but the King knew better. Gus was always sneaking around the palace, and Ryan worried that maybe he knew the palace better than he did. 

Ryan’s ears pricked at the mention of his name. Kerry was looking down the table at him with clasped hands. “Is the thief faring well, m’lord?”

“He is,” he replied emotionlessly, holding Gus’ stare.

Kerry nodded. “So the plan has worked then?”

Ryan opened his mouth to answer when Gus spoke from his seat. “It’s too early to tell, but I’m sure our King will have healers attending to the boy at a later stage.”

The door to the council room opened and Burnie stepped inside. “M’lord.”

“I’m in the middle of something, captain.”

“There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

“Tell them I’m busy and they’ll have to wait.”

“In all respect, sir,” Burnie straightened. “I don’t think you’ll want to keep the Archmage of Winterhold waiting.”


	12. Three Kings sat on a Throne

Ryan’s throne was a terrifying thing.

Perched up on a stepped dais, it was almost ash in colour with melded swords, Jarls’ crowns and bones. Behind it were three long, lancet windows facing out onto the harbour and the Sea of Ghosts. Silhouetted against the light coming in from the windows stood Jack, motionless with his eyes focused on the throne. 

The throne room doors groaned open and Ryan marched in. Burnie was right – he did not want to keep an Archmage of Winterhold waiting.

Jack stood still with one arm around his back, and another in front of his out of Ryan’s view. He appeared to be clutching something – weapon or not, the mage didn’t need it. Ryan understood that, if given the chance, Jack could use every spell under the sun to dispose of the King.

He heard the Archmage sigh heavily. “Nearly two hundred blades went into making that thing, held together with dragonfire.”

Ryan strode up beside the Archmage and looked at his throne. Pommels and blades of swords stuck out from all angles while bones and melted golden crowns made the legs and seat. He supposed form the eyes of a traitor being hauled into the throne room for judgement, it would be the scariest thing to see in a moment of fear – and that’s why Ryan decided to have it made. He wandered through the sites of his won battles, ordering Joel and his men to gather as many swords and bones as they could before having Dranys smoulder them together. 

Jack tilted his head. “It does, however, have a certain allure to it; the ‘Gavin Free’ of chairs.”

The Archmage turned to face the king. “It’s a shame you had to settle for a second choice.”

“Early days, my friend,” Ryan said coolly, crossing his arms in front of him. “It’s flattering; the dread you’re showing at the prospect of me getting what I want.”

“Seeing you fall from victory was not my intention,” Jack replied, smiling slightly. “But everyone in the world revels in the chance of seeing their friends fail now and again.”

“They do,” Ryan agreed, looking over at the Archmage. “When I watched your plan to marry that Companion off to one of the Stormcloak leaders fail, I must say it was amusing.”

Jack stiffened. “I do what I do for the good of your kingdom.”

“My kingdom?” Ryan smirked. “Do you even know what that is?”

The throne room fell into silence for a few moments before the King drew in a deep breath and continued, “My kingdom is that.” 

He pointed to the throne sitting on top of the dais, cloaked in blinding light as the sun rose over the sea behind it. “It’s the melted remains of fallen soldiers I defeated in battles. It’s the story you and I agreed to tell the Jarls over and over until we forgot that the whole thing was a lie. And the day that you and I decided to stop telling that particular story, is the day where the kingdom will fall apart.”

Ryan strode forward and ascended the steps of the dais, reaching out to touch the armrest of the throne. Half of the swords gone into making the throne had crusted marks of dried blood still encrusted onto the metal. He felt the ridges under his fingers before sitting down.

Jack looked up at the man lounging on the throne before striding towards the end of the dais. “It’s a strange thing, what the people call you; the Mad King.”

“I’ve been called ‘mad’ long before I assumed the throne,” Ryan replied, picking at the metal of the throne.

Jack took a step towards him. “What kind of King would you have liked to have been?”

Ryan shrugged. “A good one.”

“I would’ve hoped so,” Jack sighed. “You certainly had the temperament for it. But tell me; what makes a good King?”

Ryan peered up at the Archmage. Jack wore an unreadable look under his robes’ hood. 

“I’m not trying to test you, Ryan.”

The King leaned back into the back of the throne. “He must be just.”

Jack raised his eyebrows, and then nodded. “I suppose he must be. Your predecessor’s father was a just man – everyone applauded his reforms, his laws and decrees. But Istlod wasn’t just for very long.”

“He was the puppet-king of the Empire,” Ryan said sharply.

“Then was that just? Letting his subjects survive alone while he was too gullible to recognise an evil marching on their own home?”

“No.”

Jack smiled. “No. What else does a king need?”

The Archmage took another step towards the King. Ryan frowned. “Strength.”

Jack laughed – a laugh that thundered through the empty throne room, and no doubt was heard by the soldiers standing guard outside the door. “Istold’s son, High King Torygg was strong. He stood up against the Stormcloak rebellion that threatened his dynasty; until that Jarl of Windhelm broke into his own home and shouted him apart with his Voice, beheading him in front of his wife and court.”

Ryan watched Jack with a careful gaze as the Archmage came to a halt, standing in front of him. Underneath the hood, he could see Jack’s gaze bearing down on him. “So, we have a man who lets a foreign race take what they feel is theirs, and a man who was too stupid to see the dangers that stood right in front of him. And then we have you.”

Ryan frowned. “Me?”

“A man who thinks that winning a war and ruling a realm are the same things,” Jack said sharply, but quietly. “Here’s the thing, my lord; what do you three all have in common?”

The king remained silent.

“You all lack in wisdom. You were all kings who denied the simple fact that a good king knows and recognises what he does know and doesn’t. But I believe in hope – you’re still young, and a wise, young, good king listens to the people around him who can and will help in whatever way they can.”

“That’s it, is it? You think that you’re helping me?”

“I got you a suitable person to rule beside you, and secured you a family line.”

“What you gave me was a boy from Riften and the product of a delusional mage with far too much time on his hands.” 

Jack frowned and his eyes grew darker. “If you want to return to your life in Whiterun with that Companion, then by all means, I can arrange that you get back mostly unharmed. But if you chose to sit there and rule – you will do exactly what I say and head my words as if they were from the Divines themselves. Do I make myself clear?”

 

*

 

The assassins trudged through the thick undergrowth of the Falkreath forest before the group wandered onto the beginnings of the Whiterun plains. Griffon followed closely behind with her horse, checking the route behind them for bandits. While the Dark brotherhood used to be a feared organisation in Tamriel, their numbers had been dwindling – their very existence in other countries was extinguished, according to Ray.

The high spires of Whiterun’s main castle, Dragonsreach, were seen in the distance. Ray had two of his men run forward and map out how long it would take to get there. He strode beside Griffon and her horse, talking mostly about Gavin and what had become of his life. 

The pair talked about the chain of events that had happened only weeks ago, and Ray’s ears suddenly pricked at the word ‘letter’. “Ryan sent you a letter?”

Griffon nodded and took out the small parchment of paper from her rucksack. She had been carrying it since the day she and Geoff told Gavin. She handed the crumples piece of paper over to Ray who scanned the words. The black wax seal with a dragon emblem was still on the top of the paper.

Ray frowned. “This doesn’t sound like Ryan.”

Griffon looked over at the assassin. “What do you mean?”

“It’s definitely Ryan’s handwriting, but someone else’s words.”

“So, it wasn’t his idea?”

“No,” Ray scanned the words again, muttering them to himself before handing the sheet back to Griffon. “There’s one thing I don’t understand though; why did he go after Gavin? Isn’t the Hold still governed by a Jarl?”

“Not for the last decade,” Griffon replied. “The poor man and his family were killed years ago. Without them, Riften was run by the Thieves guild.”

Ray nodded, running a hand through his hair. Griffon continued watching the man before frowning, “What are you thinking about?”

“The Jarl didn’t leave behind an heir or anything?”

“Not that I know of; the whole palace was burnt to the ground. Why?”

“It’s just that a thief from Riften doesn’t get easily noticed and named by someone form the High King’s court.”

“You think Gavin is somehow related to them?”

Ray shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. Hells, it was so long ago, who even remembers the family’s name.”

Griffon took in what the assassin was saying. He had a point that it was a tad suspicious that Gavin was named by the High Court. As soon as she and Geoff were together again, she would have to ask. Though she was the one to find the boy on the streets, Geoff knew more about him from lessons and lifts they did together. 

She was going to have some serious investigating to do. Something wasn’t right about anything anymore. The realm was falling apart, with Holds not having an ounce of contact with the other. Jarls were becoming more corrupt as they bowed to Ryan, but from what Ray had been saying, he didn’t seem like the blood-thirsty dragon wrangler that she had heard of.

Was there someone else behind the king’s reign, or was he just being remarkably calm and playing a game with the Holds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack...*sigh* The amount of times I spent re-writing that mother-firetrucking speech between him and Ryan. At least it's out of the way.
> 
> Also, expect Jack to be making questionable decisions and confusing the Hells out of everyone.


	13. Marching Orders

Whatever had gone down between the High King and his Captain of the guard, Gavin noticed that Burnie was being remarkably nice to him. For one, the man was keeping his distance and guarding from afar. Gavin was relieved to notice that the over-baring captain watched him from a few feet away, instead of constantly looking over his shoulder. 

Secondly, he and Burnie would talk about everything. The captain had asked him about Riften and the Guild, and Gavin had asked him about High Rock in return, Granted, Burnie didn’t know much about his homeland after growing up in Skyrim for so long, but he knew bits and pieces.

The market place was Gavin’s favourite venturing place. Every day, the stalls would be lined with new produce from the surrounding area. The smell of fish intertwined with the musk from the neighbouring blacksmith made Gavin think faintly of Riften.

As he approached one of the last remaining stalls, he looked over his shoulder at Burnie trailing behind him. The Captain was peering into the stalls and smiling warmly at the vendors, kindly refusing their produce. Gavin paused, letting the captain catch up. 

A few market stalls separated the two. Gavin watched Burnie closely, tilting his head slightly to look at the captain through the strings of produce lining the tops of the stalls. Burnie paused in front of a stall owned by Barbara. Though the royal stable hand, he learnt from the girl that she helped her mentor out with fishing in the nearby harbour. Standing in front of the stall, Burnie smiled when Barbara’s mentor – a tired looking old man with white hair and tanned skin – laid out bright pink salmon steaks.

Gavin thought about turning around and seeing the pair again, but he halted when he saw Burnie reach to his belt and hand the pair a coin purse. Salmon in Solitude wasn’t exactly expensive, but he could tell from the look on Barbara’s face that the Captain had handed the pair way too much.

“Burns, I-I can’t,” the blonde stuttered, putting the gold coins back inside the pouch and handing it back to the Captain.

Burnie held up his hand and shook his head. “Keep it.”

The blond smiled and went to put the coin purse in the strongbox under the stall, while the elderly man shook the Captain’s hands. “Seven Divines, bless you Sir.”

Gavin watched the transaction take place with an inquisitive look. He averted his gaze quickly when Burnie turned to look at him. “Get the fish to the kitchens when you return,” he told Barbara, and continued after Gavin.

He took in the boy’s questioning look. “What?”

“What was all that about?”

Burnie cast a glance back to the stall. “That man, Marius, took me in as his apprentice when I first arrived in Skyrim,” the captain explained, wandering through the city’s lower districts with the thief. “He taught me how to swing a sword and ride a horse – I owe him.”

Gavin nodded. Just outside the market place was a raised platform where a solid block of stone was on top of it. Dripping over the side was crusted red blood tat Gavin knew came from previous executions. Burnie had told him that it was usually him that had to take a guilty person’s head. Gavin flinched slightly at the sight of the concrete block on the raised dais, almost forgetting that Burnie was only a few strides behind. “How many have been executed here?”

Burnie frowned. “More than I care to remember; most were traitors and threats to Ryan’s reign. Others were just disposable war-criminals.”

“Human life is not ‘disposable’,” Gavin said sternly. “Regardless of what they do.”

Gavin heard the captain laugh. “You’ll do well here, m’lord. A welcomed relief from the Council’s methods.”

“What do you mean the council’s methods?”

“They aren’t exactly honourable men in Nordic terms,” Burnie said, nodding towards the block. “Many who have been executed had been at the hands of the Council.”

“I thought it was Ryan who controlled the province,” Gavin replied, crossing his arms in front of him. 

Burnie shrugged. “He does, in a primal sense. The Council is the mind of Skyrim, and Ryan is the voice.”

Gavin took in Burnie’s meaning before he walked around the executioner’s block, locking his eyes on the concrete block with a red-stained wicker basket under it. The sound of Burnie’s footfalls followed as he strode idly through the city. Mid Year was ending, and the autumn was starting to roll in with orange and red leaves lining the outer walls of Solitude. From their balcony window, Gavin loved looking out on the vast forest of Hjaalmarch.

The walk back to the Keep was as silent as it always was – much of their idle conversation happened in the marketplace and kept to event surrounding them. Approaching the towering archway of the Blue Keep, Gavin caught the gaze of two mages dressed in blue robes. They gaze had sheltered under overhanging hoods, but the way that they leaned into each other told Gavin that they are talking about him.

Burnie peered over Gavin’s shoulder to the mages and sighed. “Healers from the province of Cyrodiil,” the captain muttered to the thief. 

Gavin looked up at him. “Are they here for me?”

The elder shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m not sure. I can find out for you, if you wish.”

Gavin shook his head. “Don’t bother.”

The captain kept his eyes focused on Gavin for silent minutes before sighing. “I know Ryan can be difficult – he always has been. This kingdom changed him, ensnared him somehow. He won’t be able to let go of it.”

“So he chooses to change my own body to accommodate his needs?”

The sharp response from Gavin made Burnie flinch. “It wasn’t his idea Gavin. I understand that he is a King, and can do anything he wishes, but royal politics doesn’t work that way. I know you have trouble seeing it as it is, but you need to understand.”

Gavin frowned. “What am I supposed to do? Let an apparent ‘madman’ just have his way with me?”

“Ryan is far from the worst ‘madman’ the province can offer. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The boy felt his cheeks grow red as he contemplated what the captain had said. There are far worse people in the realm than Ryan, even as the rumours of his reputation paint him as a crazed warlord.

Burnie’s voice lowered to a murmur. “Has he ever laid a hand on you, or harmed you in a physical way?”

Gavin thought for a minute before shaking his head. He truly hadn’t – even under the apparent effects of the potion, Gavin retains the faint memory of Ryan asking him did he want to do it.

“Has he been kind to you?”

“He’s tried to be,” Gavin replied quietly, ignoring the murmurings of the healers standing at the other end of the courtyard. “He’s offered to teach me Dragonspeak.”

Burnie caught the small smile tugging at the boy’s lips before remarking, “You know he’s never wanted to speak in Dragonspeak around anyone, let alone teach it.”

Gavin shrugged. “I asked, and he’s been translating words for me.”

Burnie smiled, faltering slightly when the front door to the palace groaned open. “You’re going to change him for the better, I think. You both are.”

“Captain, we’ve an urgent message from Commander Heyman.”

Burnie nodded to the soldier holding open the heavy oak door, and turned to the boy again. Gavin’s face had paled slightly when he had thought about what the captain had said. He bowed his head to the thief, “Enjoy the afternoon, m’lord.”

 

*

 

Geoff reached Morthal by the end of the second day. The road from Solitude was silent as his horse’s hoofs clipped along the cobblestone road. Morthal was a depressing place, Geoff thought to himself as he gave his horse over to a tavern’s stable hand. In a place like this, with mist so thick you can’t see past your own nose, Geoff knew that night would be approaching soon. 

The tavern was like every other place that Skyrim had – a huge fire pit in the middle of a room, with a manned countertop lined with ale and food. Along the sides were benches and chairs, some filled by what he presumed where locals. There were miners and guards and everyone in between – all turning to look at Geoff as he strode into the warm tavern. 

Each person eyed his armour – thieves guild armour, black in colour proving that he was a Guild Master. They knew how adept the regular thieves were, and with a master like Geoff, he could rob you of the clothes on your back, and you wouldn’t realise. 

Some went back to gulping down ale and conversing with their peers, while others like guards watched his movements carefully. He strode over around the fire pit, revelling in the heat, and over to the innkeeper. Freak showers of rain had fallen while he walked the road, and little chance to set up a fire and camp out for an hour. The crackling fire pit hosting rows of cooking venison and beef was a welcomed sight. 

Behind the tavern’s countertop was a Redguard woman. She gave Geoff a small smile before resting her hands on the wood. “What can I do for you, traveller?”

“Your stable boy said you have rooms to rent for a night.”

The woman nodded. “Ten gold pieces and its yours for the night.”

Geoff handed the money over, listening vaguely to the conversations going on behind him. Being a thief for the majority of your life leaves you with observational skills you’d rather not have. Most were complaining about the poverty of the town, which was true – Morthal was the poorest of the Nine cities, but it’s people seemed pretty content to waste their money away on food and drink. 

The Redguard woman led him to a closed off room and asked if he needed anything else. Geoff politely said no, and remarked that he had been travelling for nearly two days straight and needed rest. 

As he reached to open the door, his ears prick at the sound of the tavern doors opening. A crowd of five Stormcloak soldiers wandered in, hands on the pommels of their swords. One, leading the group, had a hunter’s bow slung over his shoulder. The man had the Stormcloak blue tunic wrapped around chain-mailed armour, but slung over his shoulders was a bear’s skin. A commander then, Geoff thought to himself. He contemplated going into the room and getting enough sleep to last the next few days’ worth of trekking, but his hold on the door’s handle faltered when the commander removed his helm.

The light from the pit lit up the man’s face – short-cropped dark hair with even darker eyes. Geoff jerked his head away from looking at the group and practically leapt into the room. 

Why in the name of the Divines’ was that hunter's boy Dan a Stormcloak commander?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone WILL come back together for the ending. (Especially characters I've only mentioned once or twice....)
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment or a kudos if you like...or not....that's fine....I'll love you anyway


	14. Nocturnal is Here

Gavin has always had nightmares.

Ever since he was a child in the orphanage, he’s been plagued with horrific night-terrors that refuse to go away, no matter how much of Griffon’s old ‘special tea’ he drank. What kept him sane are the people that were there to reassure him whenever he woke up practically crying. 

When he was in the orphanage, he would creep across the floorboards of the children’s’ room to Dan, and crawl in under the covers with him. Dan was always slightly bigger and taller than the thief, so in his child-like mind, it made perfect sense to get someone to scare the bad dreams away. 

After that, he had Geoff and Griffon. He slept with the other thieves out in the main chamber of the tunnels. Whenever they struck, he lurched out of bed and ran into their quarters sweating and shaking. They never had a problem with it – even as he grew up from sixteen into his twenties. Geoff knew what bad dreams could do to a person, and always snuck out to the main chamber to whisper silent prays to Nocturnal for Gavin’s protection. All the while, Griffon would gather the boy in his arms and sing silently to him. The songs always ranged – from Ragnar the Red to The Age of Oppression. He vaguely remembers once that Griffon had been murmuring words of the Dragonborn Comes into his hair when Geoff came back into their chambers and scowled at her. 

But now Gavin had no one. 

He was in the Blue Palace, having a night-terror, with no family members to reassure him.

It began as many of them did – he was dressed in his brown coloured thieves’ amour, his ebony bow slung over his shoulders and a quiver full of steel-tipped arrows weighing his back down. Looking around, he knew almost immediately where he was. The Rift’s forest was red with autumn’s leaves, and the craggy rocks jutting gout from a nearby hill told him he was nearing Eastmarch. The sun was blocked out by the leaves, with only golden streams of light coming through in rays.

This was his home. No sooner had Gavin made the realisation did it all start to slowly seep away from him. The trees slithered back into the earth, the grass beneath his feet burnt away into withered things, and the deer that he had been tracking took off for Eastmarch.

He had spent most of the hunt crouched down, and his muscles seem to protest when he stood up to look around at his eroding world. Everything was leaving him. Again.

Gavin had endured this nightmare enough times to know what to do. He closed his eyes and silently prayed to Nocturnal, just as Geoff would have done. “Night among strangers. Secrets in the dark. Nocturnal is here.” 

He repeated the words over and over again, screwing his eyes shut and wishing it to stop. 

After what seemed like hours, Gavin slowly opened his eyes to see nothing but black. He wondered if he had even opened his eyes at all until a small source of watery light crept in through a crack in, what Gavin presumed, was a door. He was sitting with his back against something hard and damp – a wall? And the roof had been dripping tiny drops of water onto the stone floor.

He went to crawl over to the light source to find out where he could be this time when it all came crashing down on top of him like a flood. He knew exactly where he was.

Markarth prison. 

As soon as the place’s name crossed his mind, cold, white piercing pains riveted up and down his back. The whip marks. The guards’ chatter outside the prison door. The laughter.

Gavin lurched back against the cold wall breathing sharply. It’s a nightmare. He’s in Solitude now. This isn’t real.

A guard outside must have a torch because the light coming in through the crack grows brighter. The walls are illuminated and he can finally get a glimpse as to where he is. It’s damp and mossy and everything about the prisoner just screams the fact that he’s going to die in here. Until the light falls on a body curled up in the far corner of the room. 

Up against the metal bars, there’s a man. The same age as Gavin, as he can see, with curly red hair and a tired, sunken in face. He’s in the same tattered robes as Gavin, but the sleeves are pulled down to cover his hands. 

The light remains outside the door, letting Gavin take in the man’s appearance. He knows this man – a Companion?

The man looks up and scowls at Gavin’s inquisitive looks. “What?”

Gavin swallows thickly. “This is a dream,” he mutters to himself. “I’m not here.”

The man snickers. “Great, I’m stuck with a madman.”

A loud clash rattles through the cell, ringing through Gavin’s ears. A guard standing outside had slammed the pommel of his sword onto the metal bars. “No talking,” he bit harshly, turning his back on the pair and striding off into the main soldiers’ quarters.

“Asshole,” the man mutters as the door closes. Gavin looks over at him again. “Stop looking at me!”

“I know you.”

“Yeah,” the man scoffs. “When you’re the only warrior to say ‘Fuck off’ to the King, you earn a reputation.”

Gavin tilted his head. “No, I-I know who you are. We’ve met before.”

“I doubt it,” the man shrugged, drawing his knees up to his chest. Gavin noticed the slight shiver that rattled through his body. “Companions and Thieves don’t mix. Divines’ knows why they put us in here together.”

The Companion leaned against the railings and tilted his head back. His eyes were closed as he breathed deeply, as if he was thinking about going to sleep. No one sleeps in Markarth prison. Sleep here and you’ll never wake up.

“I’m his husband,” Gavin muttered to the silence. The Companion must have heard it as he rolled his head over to look at the thief.

“What?”

“I’m the King’s husband,” Gavin explained. “We got married nearly three weeks ago. I live in Solitude with him.”

“Then why are you here, in a prison, practically tortured with me?” the Companion asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The man locked his eyes on Gavin, bearing into his own with such fire that Gavin was slightly taken back.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

The Companion pushed himself from the railings and sat on his haunches, clasping his hands. “If you’re the King’s husband, tell me; what’s he like?”

Gavin swallowed. “He’s the King.”

The man barked a laugh. “I suppose he is, isn’t he? A right asshole, if you ask me; deserves to have his head stuck on a pike outside the Blue Palace.”

Gavin watched the man carefully, noting how each little movement he made, a slight wince would over take his scowl. He’s probably been beaten too, Gavin thought. The pain in his back was throbbing and eating away at him. They were scars now, but it didn’t stop the feeling of wet, hot blood from seeping down his back and into the cloth tunic.

“He’s my husband,” Gavin whispered to himself, amazed at how it sounded when he did. Since slipping that gold ring onto his finger, he’s never called Ryan his husband, or anything. Just ‘Ryan’. 

He shook his head and began thinking of a way to get out of here before – 

The jail’s door whined open, emitting a deafening sound in the silence. Gavin winced and curled in on himself, crawling into the corner of the room. He pressed his body into the bricks of the wall so hard that he thought he would fuse in with material. A heavy-booted guard marched into the cell, pausing at the door’s portal. The light wasn’t great to get a proper look at the man’s face, but he was tall and broad enough to fill the portal of the cell’s doorway. Gavin cast a quick look over to the man. In his hand was a leather belt with a piece of pointed metal at the tip of it. Gavin screwed his eyes shut as his back began to throb again at the recognition of the weapon.

It’s a night-terror. 

It’s not real.

The man at the door chuckled and strode in to the cell, eyeing the two prisoners carefully. A guard standing outside turned his had to call in after him, “Which one will be suitable?”

The man didn’t respond for what seemed like hours before Gavin heard the clatter of his armour as he knelt down beside the thief. The man reached for Gavin’s chin and turned his face to look at him. Still with no light, Gavin couldn’t make out a face – even with years of living underground and working at night, he wasn’t used to such darkness.

The man used his hold on Gavin to turn his head around to the sides before letting him go. He stood up and called behind him, “Make sure the thief survives. He’s no use to us broken.”

He went to leave when the Companion sitting in the corner, openly glaring at the man, caught his attention. A dark laugh came from him. “It’s such a shame, Michael. If you had behaved for our friends here, then maybe we would’ve picked you.”

Michael – that was the Companion’s name.

“You can tell your king to fuck himself,” Michael bit back sharply, tensing slightly when the man strode over to him unwinding the belt from his hand.

The man stood in front of Michael staring down at his crouched form. From were Gavin was hiding, he saw the man snap back his arm 

“Gavin.”

His name echoed through the halls, masking the sound of the belt hitting Michael’s bared skin. The Companions yells and screams were slowly drawn away with every mention of his name. 

“Gavin, wake up.”

The world around him suddenly wrapped around him, almost smothering the boy until a bright burst of white light shot through his eyes. His whole body convulsed as he sat up from the bed. Everything about his surroundings threw him off – he wasn’t in the orphanage or the vaults, it was his and Ryan’s room dimly lit with the light of the full moon outside.

A hand gently rested on his shoulder, making him spin around. Ryan was wearing a concerned look as he gently reached out to make sure the younger was alright. Gavin’s breathing was starting to slow down when his brain figured out where he was, and a shrill shiver crept over his skin as his sweat-covered body and clothes began to cool.

“Gavin,” Ryan said gently – the same way his name sounded moments ago. “Talk to me.”

“I-I,” he stuttered, looking down at his shaking hands and over at the large mirror at the other side of the room. His hair was stuck to his head with sweat. He pushed it back from his eyes and shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Ryan frowned, sitting up properly on the bed to look at Gavin. “You were screaming and trashing around, yelling about the prisons.”

Gavin stared down at his hands. “It’s...It’s nothing. I swear.”

The boy felt Ryan wrap his arm around his back. He hadn’t noticed it until now but he had been shaking and twitching. “Tell me,” Ryan mumbled.

Gavin took a deep breath and turned to face the elder. “I’ve always had nightmares,” he explained, tangling his fingers in the fabric of the sheets. “And I’ve been in a lot of scary situations.”

Ryan frowned but remained silent, nodding for the younger to continue. 

“I’ve served months of my life in prisons – not a lot, I never usually get caught but...One time, I did and...I didn’t understand at the time. I was so careful. Everyone in the house was asleep.”

“You were put in jail for months?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. Gavin nodded.

“When you try and steal golden jewellery from the Thane of Markarth, they tend to get pretty pissed.”

Ryan smiled at the idea – he hates the people in Markarth. Gavin’s body had stopped shaking and was starting to relax again. Ryan had woken up to Gavin tossing and turning under the sheets, muttering something about the Rift’s forests wasting away, then that’s when he saw the boy drenched in sweat, practically crying about the prisons in Markarth.

“I-It’s nothing,” Gavin shook his head and went to lie back down on the bed. He settled into the sheets on his back, staring up at the patterns on the ceiling. Ryan lay down beside him, closer than he would have normally been. He watched the boy for a few minutes before sighing.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Gavin.”

“Nothing!” The boy looked up at Ryan and flinched. Concern was evident all over his face. Gavin swallowed. “I saw nothing.”

He rolled over on his side, facing away from the king. His eyes began to water at the thought of reliving his memories. Everyone thought that they were just nightmares, but they were memories that have haunted him ever since that day.

A weight began to form on his eyelids again, and as he began to fall asleep for the second time that night. The sheets behind him shuffled and before he could look over his shoulder to see what was happening, an arm wrapped around his waist. Gavin tensed slightly before relaxing back into the bed.

“What will happen to us?”

Ryan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of my life,” Gavin said quietly. “And I don’t think either of us are particularly liked by your council.”

Ryan smirked slightly. “You’re right. Gus hates me.”

“Then throw him off the battlements.”

“I can’t. I’d lose support of the College. Then Winterhold. Then the Northern Holds and my list goes on.”

Gavin nodded, and warily putting his hand over the one wrapped around his waist. He felt Ryan twitch slightly but his arm stayed where it was. “Being a King sounds pretty shitty then.”

“It is.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Ryan sighed. “For a stupid reason I made overnight. It may or may not have been influenced by several tankards of ale.”

Gavin laughed and turned to face Ryan. Rather than responding to the elder’s remark, the thief just looked into Ryan’s blue eyes then taking a quick glance down at his lips. He felt Ryan move his free hand around to turn Gavin’s head back far enough for him to kiss the younger man. It was different than the few they’ve shared – different than the one at their wedding, the night that Gavin branded “the night that shall never be mentioned”...it was nice.

Ryan was the one to pull away, quickly looking away and clearing his throat. “We should...You should get some sleep.”

Gavin smiled faintly and settled around into the pillows. Before drifting off to sleep, he heard Ryan mumble, “I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened to you.”

“It’s alright,” the younger replied quietly. “I understand why you did it.”

“It still doesn’t excuse me for what i put you through.”

The words hung around the room for a long time before Gavin repeated, “What’s going to happen, Ryan? When the Council decides to out us...what will happen to us then?”

It took Ryan a long time to respond, but when he did, Gavin felt the man move his hand around to the boy’s abdomen. “I’ll make sure you’re both safe.”


	15. Planning

“Zu'u lokaal hi, dii tafiir.“

Those were the words that Gavin woke up to. After years of being a thief, he had learned to attack the moment he felt a hold on him. Ryan’s arm was still wrapped around his waist, the other serving as a pillow for Gavin. When the urge to attack was gone, he looked over his shoulder to see Ryan smiling at him. 

The sun shining in through the opened windows was almost blinding as Gavin shut his eyes again and turned around to face the King. “What did you say?” Gavin mumbled quietly.

“Zu’u lokaal hi, dii tafiir,” Ryan repeated slowly, sounding out each word. Gavin peered up through his messed hair. “I love you, my thief.”

Gavin watched Ryan for a minute before pushing up slightly to nuzzle into the man’s neck. He could feel the elder run his fingers through his hair, drawing it back from his face. With each clump of strands being pulled away, the room seemed to get brighter. 

Ryan thought back to the previous night, and how the effects of Gavin’s nightmare had left a visible mark on the boy’s face. Underneath his eyes were dark and his face looked a lot gaunter than it usually was. He wondered about what could have happened inside the prison in Markarth. He shuddered at the thought. Markarth in general was a horrid place to be with their closely knit upper-class and their miners. It was a dull place, Ryan decided years ago when he visited the city with Joel.

Joel. A message came last night from him. He’d be within the city by nightfall with the prisoners. Ryan had asked Burnie to round up whatever guards he could, as Joel said that there were a few prisoners that could throw a punch.

Gavin shifting beside him drew him back to the present as the boy rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, before throwing it over Ryan’s middle. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Ryan shrugged. “I should be.”

“But you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Ryan smiled, running his fingers up and down Gavin’s back. The sounds of the city outside filtered in through the silk curtains as Gavin smiled faintly at the sounds of people in the town below laughing and talking.

“I need you to attend something with me,” he heard Ryan say, his hand pausing over Gavin’s lower back. “One of my commanders is returning tonight.”

Gavin looked up at the king. “A cause for celebration, I suppose?”

Ryan nodded. “You’ll have to be there with me. Mostly because you’re my husband, and partially because it’s Joel Heyman and I hate the bastard.”

Gavin scowled. “Why?”

“There’s just something about him; the way he acts around me is strange.”

“Are you scared of him?”

“No, no,” Ryan replied. Gavin nodded in response and went back to listening to Ryan’s heartbeat. It was slow, slower than his own. He was lost in the beat until a churning feeling wracked through his stomach. He curled into Ryan’s body, tightening his arm around the man’s middle as if he was hanging onto him for dear life. 

“Gavin,” Ryan sat up, unwinding the boy’s arm and laying him back down onto the bed. He took a quick look at him. “Do you want me to get the healers?”

The boy shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just feel a bit sick.”

Ryan frowned and reached for the other’s stomach, rubbing it in small circles. Gavin threw a quick glance up at the elder. “You know,” Ryan said quietly, “if it’s what I think it is, the healers will want to see you.”

“Your healers or the mages I saw the other day?”

Ryan paused his movements. The last few days had been spent watching the new mages carefully as they followed Gus around like sheep. He had Burnie trail the mages whenever he could to observe them, and from what the captain had told him, they seemed strange.

“Can you stay with me?”

Ryan looked up at the younger wearing a look of concern. He had almost not heard the boy completely as he spoke so quietly, but Ryan merely nodded. “Of course.”

Gavin nodded in reply, and made to get out of bed. From the way the light was shining in through the windows, it was easily midday. He turned to look at Ryan over his shoulder, the elder lying back and relaxing into the sheets. “Don’t you have any kingly duties to be doing?”

Ryan shook his head. “Until Joel comes back from wherever he’s been, I’m free.”

The boy smiled slightly, and crawled back over to Ryan. “Can we do something then?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, do something together?”

Ryan lolled his head to the side to look at Gavin – a smile tugging at the corners of his lips at the mention of going outside the Keep. Despite all of the travelling around the town with Burnie, Ryan had to admit that the only times he ever saw Gavin was at meals and when they went to bed. “What do you want to do?” 

Gavin shrugged. “I know that my horse is still in the stables – I was wondering if we could go to the glades.”

“The glades?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you want to go there?”

“I’ve lived underground most of my life,” Gavin said, taking Ryan’s hand when the king reached for him. 

“You’ve never been anywhere?”

“I travel at night, and then leave before the sun rises,” Gavin explained. “I didn’t exactly have the luxury to sightsee.”

Ryan laughed, and ran his thumbs over Gavin’s knuckles. It was an oddly gentle gesture, but it didn’t stop a smile from appearing on Gavin’s face. “The glades it is then.”

 

*

 

Geoff watched from the tavern’s bar as Dan and the other Stormcloak soldiers leave the inn the following morning. He had been pulling at his hood for several minutes, making sure his face could be shielded by the shadows. The innkeeper had sent him a few weary glances, and he couldn’t blame her – h must have looked like a dark brother with the black armour and mysterious staring. Not to mention the collections of knifes sticking out of his belt.

Dan and the other soldiers had spent the night there, according to the innkeeper. Geoff didn’t need to be told that – he could hear them laughing and roaring with delight as they downed tankards of ale. Normally he wouldn’t have cared, and might have partaken. But he was exhausted, and soon fell into an uneasy sleep wondering about how a hunter’s boy like Dan could have climbed to the rank of Commander so easily.

He picked at the last remnants of food left on his plate before pushing away from the bar. He handed whatever gold the innkeeper was owed and went looking for his horse. True to his word, the stable boy had cleaned most of the dried mud from his mare’s fetlocks and repaired most of his tack. The mare neighed softly when Geoff rounded the corner to the small stables to the inn’s side. Reaching out to rub at her nose, his ears pricked at the sound of a screech. 

The mare jerked her head backwards and pawed the earth below her with her hoof. Geoff reached to his side and caught the pommel of his dagger, using his other hand to calm his horse down. He looked around the side of the tavern towards the entrance – nothing. He caught his breath at the sight – nothing was happening at all. No guards were patrolling, no shop keepers were outside collecting their supplies; in fact most boxes of fruit were still stacked outside their shop walls.

Geoff contemplated quickly tacking up his horse and making a break for the marshes, but he couldn’t. The silence was almost deafening as the only sound he could hear was the blood gushing through his ears.   
The screeching sound echoed through the mists again and Geoff quickly unsheathed his dagger. He stalked around the edge of the tavern, sweeping his gaze over the town’s main street and alleyways. Nothing. Seconds seemed to go by painfully slowly as he carefully walked around the small dirt roads as silently as he could. Geoff made it to the main cobblestone street before he heard the water rippling from the river that ran beside the city. The ripples on the water seemed larger than they would have been. 

From the corner of his eye, Geoff saw a cobalt blue figure come up behind him with a drawn bow. Silently as he could, he twirled the pommel of the blade around, so he could hold the blade between his thumb and index finger. The figure lunged forward, drawing back the arrow when Geoff spun around and threw the dagger at the figure. The soldier – a Stormcloak soldier – went flying back to the ground with a loud thump. Geoff strode forward quickly, digging the dagger out of the soldier’s chest with a crunch – shattered ribs, Geoff noted. 

Another soldier rounded around the corner of a nearby store, sword drawn and shield up. Geoff copied the motion he had been in a few minutes ago and raised his arm to throw the dagger when – 

A white blinding pain shot through his shoulder, throwing Geoff back a few paces. Staggering back he saw the brown coloured flecthing of an iron arrow. It drove through the thick leather armour and Geoff could feel the gush of blood running down his right side. He grabbed it and attempted to snap it off and carry on fighting, but the sound of a bow string firing sounded again and again until three arrows were buried in Geoff’s shoulder, middle and abdomen. As each arrow pierced through his armour, he staggered backwards until he finally collapsed onto one knee, bracing his hands flat on the ground to keep him somewhat upright. 

The dirt crunching under boots filled Geoff’s ears as he looked up. Dan stood above him clutching his bow tightly. His face was blank and unreadable as he tilted Geoff’s face upwards with the lower limb of the bow. 

“D-Dan,” Geoff coughed, wincing at the pain coursing through his right side. “P-Please don’t.”

Dan cast a quick glance to the other guards that were now circling the thief, all clasping the pommels of swords and daggers. He sighed audibly before commenting, “You took him away from me.”

“W-What?”

“You took Gavin away from me. You and the King,” Dan drawled, the grip on his bow only tightening with each word. He removed the bow’s lower limb from Geoff’s chin as he raised it above the thief’s head. “I’ll see to it that you get what you deserve.”

Geoff frowned, watching the man raise the bow. “D-Dan.”

The Stormcloaks around him all exchanged looks and smirks as Dan took a quick breath before bringing the metal down to the back of Geoff’s skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a filler and somewhere along the line, plot came back into this....Huh....
> 
> ALSO, as with all the Mpregs I seem to write, I'm giving everyone an opportunity to send in a gender for the baby (mostly because I can't decide for myself :I) So get commenting away my darlings and have a beautiful morning, day, afternoon, night, twilight, eclipse!


	16. He's Protecting Me

The glades were beautiful. 

It had taken some arguing with Burnie, but he hesitantly let the pair travel alone. The forests were a lot like the one in the Rift, just greener and a lot more plants on the forest’s floor. Gavin smiled to himself as his horse’s ears pricked at all of the different sounds coming from the trees – it had been nearly a month since he could go outside the city and ride his horse, and he was overjoyed to be doing so.

Ryan was a few strides ahead of him, letting his horse wander through the grass and pull up roots and plants to eat. He flashed a glance back at Gavin every so often and smiled at him. “What do you think?” he said, outstretching his arms to gesture to the forest.

Gavin kicked his horse forward until he was riding beside the elder. “It’s nice,” he said looking up at the canopy sheltering them from the midday sun. “It’s just like home.”

Ryan smiled slightly. “The Rift was like this?”

“Yeah; trees everywhere, a few streams and rivers and a lot of wildlife,” Gavin explained, running his fingers through his horse’s mane. A habit he had always had whenever he rode – Geoff had always told him to stop, as his horse would get too attached to him or vice versa, and you never really know if you or your horse would die. The last thing Geoff would ever need was an upset Gavin on his hands. He didn’t even contemplate the fact that one day, he could lose the boy that he had called his son.

Gavin’s heart sank at the thought. Ryan had explained to him that Geoff had left the city by his own request. He understood that Geoff couldn’t stay with him forever, but it felt incredibly lonely without him. Ryan noticed the saddening expression creeping onto Gavin’s face before he reached out for the younger’s reins and halted them both.

“What’s wrong?”

Gavin shrugged and looked around at the collections of trees circling the pair, then up at the sky when a hawk cried – looking everywhere but Ryan’s concerned face.

He heard the elder sigh before he let go of Gavin’s reins. “I want to show you something,” Ryan explained, inclining his head to a nearby clearing. He kicked his horse forward, still looking at Gavin to follow him.

The pair wandered through the forest, Gavin following Ryan silently as they went further and further in. He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw the tops of the Blue Keep peering over the tops of the trees. 

Ryan slowed down in front when they came to a nearby clearing – orange and emerald grass swirled together as multiple slabs of rocks formed a pathway up to a cavern’s opening. Around the cavern’s opening, several polished slabs of marble were lined around it with markings much like the ones within the Blue Keep. Ryan dismounted his horse and wandered to the start of the marbled pathway. Gavin copied the action and let his horse join Ryan’s as they grazed. 

A wide smile was spreading across Ryan’s face as he held out his hand for Gavin. He shot the elder a questioning look. “What is this place”?

“You’ll see,” Ryan smirked, taking the boy’s hand and led him to the cavern. Gavin noted the markings on the wall and recognised some of the letters from Ryan’s teachings. He couldn’t make out the whole words but the letters were slowly coming to him

The cavern, although seemed dark from the forest’s clearing, was remarkably well lit with torches lining with cave’s walls. Statues of the old Nordic dragons filled in the spaces between the torches, as did carvings of the old tale of the Dragonborn and Alduin’s downfall. He had heard of the story countless times from listening in on conversations during heists, but never actually saw any of it.

Ryan took one of the torches from its holder and led Gavin down to a set of thick obsidian doors. A carving of a dragon’s head was etched into the metal. Gavin watched Ryan slink into the shadows coming from behind the obsidian doors, the torch giving off the only source of light. His hand was still clasped in Ryan’s and the elder led him through the darkening hallways of the cave. With every step they took, the ground became bumpier under his leather shoes until he heard gravel crunching under his feet. The doors behind them groaned closed again, leaving them in darkness ave for the torch.

“Ryan,” Gavin said, looking around at the darkness. “Where are we?”

“Underneath the Blue Keep,” Ryan explained, pointing the torch towards a long narrow corridor. “It stretches underneath the whole city, but what I want to show you is underneath the Keep itself.”

“And what is it that you want to show me?”

Ryan smiled and continued leading Gavin through the hall of stone, ignoring the boy’s streams of questions. As they walked, light began to circle the walls of the cavern, steadily growing brighter with each step until the hallway ended leading out onto a hollowed out cavern easily spanning as wide as the city of Solitude itself. Ryan reached up and put the torch into another empty holder and turned to the younger. Gavin cast his eyes over the cavern – it was huge. He’d never seen anything like it before. Some light from the outside world was filtering in through cracks in a nearby wall, but the light mostly came from heavy torches bolted into the walls.

“Is this...” Gavin began, looking to the elder who had a proud smile on his face. Gavin took a few steps back into the darkness behind him. “I can’t, Ryan.”

Ryan frowned and reached for Gavin’s hand. “Are you afraid of them?”

“N-No, but,” Gavin stuttered, trying to free his hand from Ryan’s. “They’re dragons, Ryan.”

He pulled the younger towards him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Whatever you’ve heard about them isn’t real,” he said, his voice a mix of being stern with the boy and sincerity. “Just let me show you.”

Ryan led Gavin down a small pathway down to the floor of the cavern. Everything was quiet as the only sound was the sound of the small river flowing through the far right of the cavern. Ryan let go of Gavin’s hand as he strode forward a few steps before clasping his hands together and whistling. Gavin could hear his heart pounding when a crackling hiss came from a hollowed out vault above them. 

Ryan whistled again and the same hissing sound echoed through the cavern, followed by a shrill squawk. Ryan turned around and held his hand out for Gavin as the sounds became louder and louder until a single scaled creature stalked around the mouth of a hollowed vault. From the lighting given off by the torches, the dragon’s eyes shone like gold as he clawed his way around the rock-face of the walls before pushing off and gliding back to the ground. 

Gavin watched Ryan from the corner of his eye, only to see the prideful smirk still etched across his face. The dragon – ruby scaled with black horns – pawed the ground when his eyes fell on Gavin. It tilted his head to the side when Ryan held out his free hand for the beast’s nose. It wandered towards the pair carefully, bowing his head to the ground when Ryan muttered something under his breath.

“Daar los dii ahmul, lig fir mok dii fahdon,” he whispered to the beast as it folded its wings flat against his back and bowed its head slightly. Gavin had never seen a dragon this close before – it was always flying overhead and from the cries that they gave off, it gave Gavin a warning that they were close so he could run for his life for cover.

Ryan turned to look at the wondered look on Gavin’s face when the dragon pressed its nose to Ryan’s outstretched hand. “This is Dranys,” Ryan explained quietly. The dragon’s eyes opened again at the mention of its name. “He was my first dragon – the one I hatched.”

Gavin looked at the dragon as it cast its golden eyes over to the boy. It made a clicking noise at the back of its throat before inclining its head downwards – almost like a bow someone in the palace would give to him. “Dranys,” Gavin said quietly, smiling when the dragon clicked back. “Does he speak to you?”

Ryan nodded. “I taught him to speak the common tongue, and he taught me Dragonspeak.”

Behind the ruby dragon, Gavin saw others peer their slender heads out of vaults at the sounds of Ryan speaking. He smiled when the dragon in front of them moved towards Ryan and lowered his nose to the man’s shoulder. He was taken aback by the gentle gesture done by something as big and towering as a dragon. Ryan patted the dragon’s cheek with a hand before pushing him away slightly. 

“Hi praag wah mindok tol hi fen unstiid kos dii ragnavir. Zu'u fen dreh truk tol fen ni kos zinaal, uv bahlaan do hin lokaal fah zey. Nuz mindoraan tol hi fen kos dii diist kiir,” he said to the beast in a hushed tone. Gavin had never heard Ryan speak it so fluently before – it had always been three or four words at a time. The whole language seemed harsh and guttural, but had certain elegance to it.

The dragon pulled back his head slightly. “Hi fen lost kiir voth daar Bron?”

Ryan nodded. The younger stood to the King’s side, listening to him talk to the beast in its own language. “Zu'u los, nuz dreh hi mindoraan fahvos Zu'u praag wah dreh daar?”

The dragon seemed to glance its golden eyes at Gavin before turning back to the King. “Daar Bron fon zinaal. Zu'u dreh ni irkbaan hin dren, dii bormah.“

Ryan smiled slightly before turning to Gavin. He took the younger’s hand and inclined his head to the dragon. “Do you want to pet him?” he asked with a smile.

Gavin smiled back. “He’s a dragon, Ryan, not a dog.”

“He’ll let you.”

“Is that what you two were talking about?”

Ryan paused. “Yeah. He’ll let you.”

Gavin wearily let Ryan put out his hand, palm facing the dragon’s snout. It let out another puff of air that was shockingly warm when it hit Gavin’s un-gloved hand. The dragon pressed its nose to Gavin’s hand – the skin was like plates of steel armour that were pentagonal in shape. They were oddly clean and even shone beneath the gleam of the torches on the walls.

Ryan still had a hand on the dragon’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over the part where the scales melted off into horns. The dragon’s eyes slipped shut under the gentle touches, and Gavin let a small laugh. “I’d never thought I’d touch one.”

Ryan hummed a reply, patting the dragon’s cheek to pull his head away. “They’re beautiful,” he heard Gavin say when the others gently stalked from the shadows to wander over to the pair. Dranys looked over his shoulder and hissed at the dragons, who fluttered away quickly at the show.

The elder saw a frown overtake Gavin’s smile. “He was my first dragon,” Ryan explained calmly. “I hatched him and raised him – he’s just protecting me.”

“You’re like a father to him then?”

“I suppose I am, in a way,” Ryan replied, watching Dranys slink off into the shadows unfurling his wings to lift up into the upper vaults. “He’ll protect you too – he knows you mean a lot to me.”

Gavin looked to Ryan. “I do?”

“Of course you do,” the elder said. “You’re different, and real.”

“Real?”

“There are so many in my employ that I don’t trust, Gavin. There are people even in my kingdom that I don’t trust. They’re liars and killers and they wait for the moment that I do something wrong so they can take what I have. I need to protect everything and everyone dear to me – them and you.”

The sincerity coming through in Ryan’s voice was all too real as Gavin listened with wide eyes. Ryan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What you said this morning,” Gavin said quietly. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

Ryan nodded. “I do.”

Gavin flushed a little before reaching for the elder’s hand. “Zu’u lokaal hi,” he said shakily, looking into Ryan’s eyes to make sure he got it right. The smile tugging at the corners of Ryan’s lips told him all he needed to know. “I mean it,” Gavin continued. “I know that you were forced into this, and you had no control – but I can’t help but feel something for you.”

The pair elapsed into silence, listening to the occasional chirps of the dragons overhead. Ryan soon cleared his throat. “We should....We should head back – Joel will be arriving soon.”

Gavin nodded and followed Ryan as he led the pair back out the obsidian doors of the cavern – listening vaguely to the chirps and whining sounds of the dragons. He wondered if they were always like that whenever Ryan left them. From what he had told him, Gavin presumed that all of the dragons were hatched by Ryan at some point, with Dranys being his first. The dragon wasn’t like any of the others, standing taller and somewhat prouder than the rest. 

He could still feel the warm sensations of the dragon’s skin on the skin on his hand. He looked down to it, surprised to see it a shade redder – as though it were burnt. Ryan was a few strides ahead of him as the pair returned to the forest clearing in silence. Gavin couldn’t help but wonder about what Ryan had just shown him – he thought back to what Burnie had told him about Dragonspeak. He was the only person who Ryan got to teach him the language, and it was strangely normal to speak as he spent days with the elder sounding out letters and words for mundane things.

The Mad King that everyone in Tamriel didn’t exist – where Gavin was concerned. He was a somewhat father-figure to a dragon. Something that didn’t belong was taken in by a loving figure. Gavin smiled slightly. It reminded him of what Geoff had done for him. Gavin didn’t fit in or belong either – with the Thieves Guild long abandoned, his new life here in Solitude was strange and unnatural. But maybe it was something he could grow to love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DRAGONSPEAK NEWS* The conversation had between Dranys and Ryan is kinda sketchy (just Ryan explaining that Gavin is going to be around a lot more, and they're having a kid...so Dranys isn't allowed kill him) and Dranys just agrees. That's the essence of it.


	17. Snowhawk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is kind of a filler, just so I can move things along for...later**

Geoff woke to the feeling of being hurtled to the ground. The rough scrap of hard rock under his skin stung as he was thrown down face first. His arms were tied behind his back, fastened with what he felt to be thick straps of leather bound by a buckle.

White hot pain shot up through his right side at the contact as he curled in on himself, gasping for air. The arrows were gone, but the feeling of the wounds reopening only made him wince as he could feel the wetness of fresh blood pour over the crusted remnants of the last cuts.

He was outside – that much was clear to him as he blearily opened his eyes to look around. It was dusk, with the sun beginning to set over the nearby mountains of Solitude. There were the sounds of chains sliding against metal, combined with dim laughter and chatter from who Geoff presumed where Dan and his men. The binds on his arms were jerked up as the chain pulled upwards, locking into a post a few feet from the camp. 

Geoff slumped against the wooden pole and tried to breathe the pain away. He had gotten worse injuries before and none had ever slowed him down. His armour was gone; he noticed looking down at his blood-stained shirt and breeches. His weapons, he presumed, must be with Dan as the thief watched him sit around a campfire with the other soldiers. He sent a glance across to Geoff and smirked, only to turn back to the men.

Solitude was over the horizon – the mountaintops of Haalfingar were seen over the trees of the marshes. The mist was as thick as it always was, but glowed a faint white because of the full moon coming over the horizon. Geoff thought back to why the Stormcloaks might be heading to Solitude in the first place – the war between them and the Imperials ended years ago, and from what he could see inside the city, Ryan had no business with the Nords. “Nocturnal help me,” he whispered under his breath, sighing heavily as he slumped against the pole and closed his eyes. He had no idea how long he had been out for, or even where they were in the marshes – everything looked the goddamn same in Hjaalmarch. 

The sounds of boots walking caught his attention. Dan strode over to the thief – a prideful smirk tugging at his lips as he knelt down in front of Geoff. “Decided to wake up, did you?”

“Go to Hell,” Geoff muttered, staring directly into the commander’s eyes. 

Dan laughed before pulling out a dagger from the sheath around his waist. Geoff cast a quick glance to the dagger and his eyes grew wide – Gavin’s dagger. The ebony and ivory one he had welded for him. Why did Dan have it? Dan noticed Geoff’s shocked expression as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “Gavin gave it to me before he left,” he informed the thief, ignoring the glare he gave the younger man. “He came to see me in the forests and told me all about how you practically gave him away like he meant nothing-”

“-He means everything to me!” Geoff hissed, jerking his body forward towards Dan. The pain in his side exploded again, almost blinding him. He heard the muffled sound of Dan’s laughter as the sound of his own blood coursed through his ears. 

“He did to me too, Geoffrey,” Dan said, “but can you imagine how I felt, when the man I loved told me that you were taking him away from me.”

Geoff scowled. “You don’t think it hurt me and Griffon too?”

“You didn’t care for him,” Dan frowned. “I was with him from day one. I’ve been with him longer than your or your wife, and I’ve loved him longer. You were just the people who came across someone you could exploit for your guild.”

The sounds of the soldiers’ conversations by the campfire seemed to die away as Geoff noticed that they were in complete silence. He thought about kicking the younger away with his foot, and perhaps using the chain to his advantage by wrapping it around Dan’s neck – it certainly had the slack to do so. But the pain coursing through his body just made the whole plan impossible as every time he shifted his weight, he winced slightly. Dan noticed this and drawled, “You’re welcome, by the way. I had one of my men stitch your wounds up – I wouldn’t recommend moving much though. You never know when the stitches may give out.”

“What did you want with me?” Geoff stared at the younger, still twirling the dagger through his fingers.  
“I’ll be honest Geoffrey – I didn’t know I would come across you. Initially I wanted to storm Solitude with the Stormcloaks and tear Ryan’s whole kingdom down. But then, when we went to leave the tavern, I noticed a cloaked man watching me from the bar. Really, Geoffrey, for a thief, you’re remarkably easy to spot.”

“You’re lucky I’m not a Night Brother.”

Dan laughed. “The Dark Brotherhood died off years ago – they’re gone. I presume the same will happen to your own guild as soon as I’m finished with you. After you’re dead, I’ll go after your wife, then your family, maybe I’ll even burn the whole Rift to the ground.”

“You’re insane,” Geoff spat. 

Dan shrugged and raised the tip of the dagger to hold up Geoff’s chin. The thief’s breath hitched when the metal dug into his skin, and he was certain that the slightest bit of pressure would cause his skin to break.

“I’ll burn them – I’ll burn the hearts out of them, and I’ll keep you alive just so you can watch.”

 

*

 

Celebrating was almost a foreign concept for Gavin. Nobles from the neighbouring towns flocked to the palace as soon as the word got out that Joel was returning. He burst in through the throne room doors – a prideful smirk across his face, laughing as his men trailed behind him. Burnie and his guards had transferred the prisoners to the dungeons, and Ryan would sort them out tomorrow. 

Now though, he stood with Gavin atop a staircase. The boy’s arm was wrapped around Ryan’s as they strode down the steps to attend the party that he knew would last well into the night. The thief was somewhat thankful for the seamstresses in Ryan’s employ – many of the clothes he now had were simple enough, often resembling the armour of the guild he used to be in. Ryan wore what he normally wore, but had his crown perched on his head. Gavin rarely saw him wear it – it must be for ceremonies, then, he thought as he peered up at the ebony black thing.

Some of the nobles watched the pair descend the steps to join the festivities. Gavin met many of their eyes as they leaned in together murmuring and muttering about them. From spending nearly a month at Ryan’s side, he had learnt to ignore them, but it didn’t stop the boy from glancing their way ad scowling at them.

“Where is he?” Gavin asked in a hushed tone as he surveyed the ballroom for Joel. He hadn’t met the man before, and from what Ryan had to tell him, he was to be careful around him. 

Ryan nodded towards a gathering of nobles and guards, all red in the face from laughing and drinking. “The one wearing the emerald green jacket,” Ryan muttered back. Gavin nodded as he spotted the man. He had his back to them as they approached, but Gavin saw the way the nobles bowed their heads as they approached. 

He looked over his shoulder and smiled when he saw Ryan. “Your Grace! I feel like it’s been years since you and I last spoke!”

Ryan smiled back – it’s forced, Gavin decided as he saw something flicker inside Ryan’s blue eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be regaling me with the tales of your travels.”

Joel laughed, ad his gaze wandered to Gavin. “So this must be the thief,” he said, looking from the top of Gavin’s head to his feet, and then sweeping back up. “Scrawny little thing, isn’t he.”

Gavin’s hand tightened around its place on Ryan’s forearm. “I was a thief, my lord, not a warrior.”

“Please, boy, I’m no lord,” Joel held up his hand. “I’m merely a warrior who got lucky.”

“I thought that you were ordered to be executed in Cyrodiil, but Ryan employed you instead,” Gavin said, revelling in the slight flicker of annoyance in Joel’s eyes. “That’s what I heard.”

Ryan exchanged glances between the two before the sounds of the celebration around them grew louder at the sight of local bards entering the ballroom and starting to play music. Joel looked over Ryan’s shoulder and met the eyes of Gus and Kerry. “If you will excuse me, your Grace,” Joel bowed his head slightly and scurried off into the crowds. 

Ryan continued to look at him until the crowd itself seemed to merge around him and shielded him from view. He cast a glance down to Gavin. The boy smiled at the look of annoyance shadowing Ryan’s face. He leaned up to kiss the elder on the cheek before muttering, “If you weren’t going to put him in his place, then I will.”

The king’s eyes grew wider. “You’re learning to act like a king.”

“I’m learning how to rule,” Gavin smiled and kissed the elder on the lips slowly, certain that some of the nobles must be looking their way. Ryan’s arm left his as Gavin felt it wrap around his waist and pull him closer to him. Ryan suddenly pulls away slightly and mutters against Gavin’s lips, “People are watching.”

“Let them see,” Gavin replied just as quietly and reached around to pull Ryan’s head down to kiss him deeper. The celebration seemed to sliver away from them as the sound of gushing blood and each other’s heavy breaths were the only things they could hear. Gavin wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders – he doesn’t care anymore about the nobles around them. He never did. Ever since Burnie had told him that he would change Ryan, the thought had plagued his mind. 

Ryan pulled away again and rested his forehead against Gavin’s. The pair both smiled at each other until the music being played started to seep back into their world. Ryan looked towards the group of bards to the end of the room, making room for the married couples and suitors who wandered into the middle of the room. 

He inclined his head to the space. “Would you like to dance?” 

Gavin smiled brightly. “I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fans of Dan may want to excuse themselves now...I won't be able to help myself later on in the fic.


	18. Smoke and Mirrors

Geoff woke to the sounds of hurried footsteps. He jolted awake, wincing at the pain running through his entire body. The other soldiers were already awake and shuffling around the dying campfire, collecting weapons and pulling on their armour. Geoff squinted against the bright morning light that seeped in through the mists of the marshes to see a civilian-clothed man run up to Dan.

The pair spoke too quietly for Geoff to hear and he tried to hone in on what they were saying. He could see Dan frowning as he cut of the man sharply. “What do you mean by that?”

The man, a few inches shorter than Dan and considerably smaller in stature, almost seemed to slink away at the man’s tone. He explained what he meant again to the elder only to jump back when Dan stormed towards Geoff. “Did you know about this?”

Geoff looked up at the man with hooded eyes. “About what?”

“Ryan and Gavin are having a child.”

“That’s impossible.”

Dan pointed back to the man. “Not from what he’s told me.”

Geoff frowned and looked over at the man – he recognised him as someone who was always slinking around the marketplace of Solitude. He must be one of Dan’s spies then, he thought as other soldiers crowded against the man with their weapons drawn. “A mage gave him some potion and now he’s carrying some devil-spawn.”

“Do you know that for certain?”

“Healers have seen him,” the man said quietly. Dan spun around to glare at him but he continued on, looking at Geoff. “They’ve confirmed it.”

Geoff swallowed thickly and risked a quick glance up at Dan. He was livid – the man was practically trembling. He waved the man away as he broke from the group of soldiers surrounding him. He scurried over to Dan as he pulled him forward by the collar of his shirt and muttered something into his ear. The man frowned and opened his mouth to reply when Dan shoved him away. “Tell him I sent you,” he said sharply.

He looked down to Geoff and dragged him to his feet. He noted the way the thief tried to mask the jolt of sudden pain that racked through his body as his joints cracked with the effort. Geoff glared at him. “What are you going to do to him now?”

Dan shrugged. “Kill Ryan for touching him, and kill that demon as soon as it’s born.”

“You’d kill a helpless child?”

“I would.”

Geoff held the man’s glare. “Tell me about it.”

“Pardon?”

“How far along is it?”

“Not very,” Dan replied, leaning around Geoff to unhook the chains from the pole, letting them clatter to the ground. “It’ll be a while before that thing is born.”

Geoff frowned. He felt the chains binding his hands together slacken slightly as Dan moved backwards towards the group of soldiers. Most of them had returned to saddling their horses and packing away supplies. “We’ll see what Ryan’s commanders have to say about it,” Dan commented idly as he wrapped the chains around a hook in his saddle. 

“If you touch him I swear to the Nine, I’ll kill you.”

Dan barked a laugh. “I’d like to see you try Geoffrey.”

 

*

 

Joel stared down the council table to where Gus was perched in his usual seat wearing his usual shit-eating grin. He could have smiled at the news the mage had given him, but he didn’t. A baby would ensure that Ryan kept his throne, and all of Joel’s plans to kill him and usurp were thrown out the window. 

“What ale were you drinking when you thought that what you did would be a good idea?” he asked bitterly, shattering the mutual silence that surrounded them in the empty chambers. There had been servants circling the tables with wine and food, but knowing that Gus was up to no good, Joel merely waved them away and made sure the door was bolted closed. 

Gus reached for a goblet. “You’re just sore because I foiled your little plan.”

“You knew about that?” 

“I’m the king’s personal mage,” Gus commented, taking a swig of wine. “I know more than he does.”

Joel scowled at the mage who flashed him a small prideful smirk. “The healers have confirmed that the boy is with child, Ryan seems to be tempered by the whole thing, and the realm is somewhat alright,” Gus drawled. “I don’t see what you were hoping to do when you got the throne.”

“I wouldn’t be housing dragons underneath the city, for starters,” Joel said sharply. He straightened in his chair, leaning forward. “And I’d make sure that my employees weren’t such backstabbing bastards.”

“How am I backstabbing the king?” Gus put down his goblet and held his hands palms outwards. “I suggested something, and he took my advice. I’m on his council – It’s my job to make sure he doesn’t mess this whole thing up.”

“I’m on his council too,” Joel frowned. 

“And what a marvellous job you’re doing to quell the countryside violence plaguing the realm.” Gus’ smile only grew when a flicker of annoyance finally slipped across Joel’s face. “I’m sure that elf-girl gave you trouble when you destroyed her own fort.”

“I was given orders.”

“As was I,” Gus replied. Joel sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. Gus continued, “If the Archmage wants something done, it will be done.”

The commander smiled and laughed. “So all of this is Pattillo’s fault, then?”

Gus shrugged. “He gave me orders.”

The pair returned to their silence as the faint sounds of the palace’s attendants shuffled around in the corridors outside. Joel clicked his tongue and pushed his chair back from the table. He picked up his own goblet and drained the last of the wine.

Gus watched the commander over the brim of his goblet as he strode for the door. As the locks came undone, Joel was met by the flustered face of a servant. “C-Commander Heyman, sir,” he stuttered. Joel looked over his shoulder to the mage, and ushered the man out of the room, closing the door swiftly behind him. “I have news from Commander Gruchy.”

“What does he want now?”

“He wants to know about whether or not you’re going to attack the palace.”

“We’re waiting until the baby is born,” Joel muttered. “I don’t want that Commander doing anything until then – if he does, tell him that he’ll have to answer to me.”

The man nodded and hastily ran back down the corridors. Joel looked at the closed council doors behind him and frowned. Gus was going to be a problem. The man had gained too much power in Ryan’s court during Joel’s trip to the southern holds. Power that he should have. 

The sounds of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridors as Joel saw Burnie marching up through the halls. He flashed the captain a small smile. “Gavin gave you the day off, did he?”

Burnie stopped in front of the commander. “The Prince is being attended to by healers,” he corrected the man. “As for my duties, I’m always working.”

“Too true,” Joel remarked, striding past the captain towards the main hall. “You never know when danger might strike.”

Joel took a few steps towards the main dining hall when he felt his cloak being grabbed. Burnie pushed the commander chest-first into the nearest wall and wrenched his arms behind his back. “If you go anywhere near them,” Burnie hissed into the man’s ear. “I’ll kill you where you stand.”

The commander gave him a low chuckle before drawling, “With someone like you around, Burns, I don’t think I’d succeed.”

 

*

 

The stench of herbs still lingered in their room as Ryan watched Gavin slowly fall into a deep sleep. The healers were remarkably thorough in their tests and didn’t let Gavin have a moment of rest. Ryan, true to his word, had stood only an arm’s reach away from Gavin while the healers fluttered around him taking notes and priding themselves on their newfound achievement. 

The baby was surviving better than they had thought, or at least that is what they had told Ryan. The pair were lying as closely as they could, with Gavin moulded to Ryan’s side, hugging him closer with one arm around the elder’s middle. Ryan idly traced his fingers up and down Gavin’s spine and back, listening to his faint breathing become increasingly deeper as he fell further and further into sleep.

Days were beginning to drift past, and Ryan could feel himself becoming uneasy. There were people in his employ that he didn’t trust – Gus, Kerry, Jack and now Joel. He would have to deal with them somehow, but quietly. The prospect of bringing a child into the whole mess made his heart sink. 

Gavin shuffled around slightly before tucking his head into the elder’s neck and sighing. Ryan tightened his hold on the younger before kissing the top of his head. “I’ll protect you both,” he whispered into the empty room – hoping slightly that Gavin could still hear him even under the haze of sleep. He rubbed Gavin’s abdomen with his free hand, kissing the boy’s forehead too. 

“I’ll give you the earth and the sky, the rivers and the mountains,” he muttered. “I’ll give you a throne to sit on and rule in my place when your daddy and I leave you.”

Ryan paused, listening to the faint sounds of the harbour and the city. The people out there would belong to his child, not him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT! There is going to be a huge 8 month gap from here to the next chapter, mainly because I want to move this thing along and end it a-s-a-now. Everything will be explained as to what happened inbetween the gap, so don't worry :)


	19. The Throat of the World

From the balcony overlooking the city, Gavin gazed out past the city’s walls to the high peaks of High Hrothgar. The winter had come and gone, with spring settling in nicely. Green trees started to bloom around the forests surrounding the city, and summer seemed on the horizon. With each passing month, Gavin let his mind reel through the changes that were coming to him – his body being the most significant. Ever since entering into the final stages of carrying this child, he watched Ryan become increasingly protective. He started escorting Gavin around the palace personally, much to the displeasure of his advisors and councillors. Ryan merely sent them away with a glare, and graciously hooked an arm with that of his husband and led him through the corridors of the palace, and even the vast blooming gardens.

There were days such as these, of course, where the prince just revelled in watching Solitude grow. Ryan’s reign, it had been commented amongst the citizens, had been tempered by Gavin’s presence within the palace walls. He would often take walks through the town with Burnie by his side, and greet the people as he passed. Sometimes Ryan would come with him, only to be watched by his mages who often stood atop the palace’s battlements, or even had their apprentices follow the pair from a few paces behind. 

Gavin didn’t mind. Neither did Ryan, he thought as he often saw the king smile at his people as they went about their daily business. It was those moments where Gavin felt at home in Solitude, even as his true home of Riften lay at the other side of the province. 

Standing on the marbled floor of the balcony, Gavin let his hand drift down to his middle. He thought back to what his parents must be doing – are they safe? How is the thieves’ guild? Do they even think about him anymore? Eight months is an exceptionally long time for a thief, Gavin thought. They would have picked up another orphan and had him or her trained by know. Maybe his bed in the Ratways was already filled by another.

The sound of the room’s door opening broke Gavin from his thoughts as a small smile played on his lips. Ryan strode into the room, with one arm wrapped around a cloth-bound bundle. Gavin tilted his head to get a better look, but Ryan merely strode past the balcony’s door and went straight to his study. 

Gavin followed the king, placing a hand on the study’s door to stable himself. There were often times throughout the day were his strength would leave him, and Ryan was always worrying that one day he could fall.

“What do you have there?”

Ryan looked up at his husband after placing the bundle on his desk. Cluttered with books and maps and letters from his commanders, Gavin wondered how the desk withstood the weight of everything Ryan often threw onto it. But the bundle had been placed carefully, almost like it contained something fragile. Ryan stretched out his hand for Gavin to take, and he led the boy to the desk before unravelling the red cloth. “I visited the dragon’s lair this morning,” he explained quietly, casting a quick glance over Gavin’s shoulder towards the main bedroom, checking if anyone had come in through their door. “It would seem you and I are not the only parents expecting.”

Gavin’s eyes widened at the object inside the cloth – it was an egg. A dragon’s egg. It could fit in Ryan’s hands and was oval in shape. It looked like the ones in books Gavin read in Riften. The shell was scaled much like a dragon’s body, and coloured a deep, blood red with dark tips towards the end of the scaled points. “Is it Dranys’?” Gavin asked quietly, reaching out to run his fingers over the scaled shell. 

“Perhaps,” Ryan replied. “I can’t keep it there with them.”

“Why not?”

“There are too many of them down there – A dragon needs space to hatch and raise a kit. Dranys let me take it.”

The egg was warm, Gavin noted. From being wrapped in the thick cloth, and the heat outside, it should have no problem staying warm. “What are baby dragons like, anyways? I’ve only seen them fully grown.”

“Troublesome,” Ryan sighed. Gavin leaned into the elder’s body and Ryan wrapped an army around him. A small smile showed when Ryan brushed his thumb over the side of Gavin’s bump. He often did that – at meetings, or celebrations, Gavin was always an arm’s reach away.

“Gavin,” Ryan mumbled, turning his head to brush his nose into Gavin’s mop of hair. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s something I wanted to ask of you for a while now, and with the final weeks of this pregnancy coming on so fast, I hoped to speak about it to you sooner but-”

Ryan fell silent when Gavin pressed a small kiss to his jaw. “You’re rambling again,” he smiled, and placed his hand over the elder’s. Ryan took a deep breath and let his eyes roam the room before he settled again.

“I think it would be best if you went to High Hrothgar.”

Gavin’s hand tightened slightly on Ryan’s. “What?”

“It isn’t safe here. Solitude isn’t safe. I know that I can protect you if you’re with me, but what about the moments when I’m not around? Burnie can only do so much-”

“-I can take care of myself, Ryan-”

“-They’ll take you from me!” 

Gavin shrunk away from the elder as he saw the flicker of raw emotion in Ryan’s eyes. They had talked about this before in the early hours of the morning, joined together and listening to the northern breeze howl past the opened balcony door. As winter passed and Gavin became ill with the effects of bearing a child, Ryan watched his every move from dawn to dusk. 

“Despite what fears may be trapped inside your head, love,” Gavin said calmly, placing his hands on either side of Ryan’s face, gently rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks. “I’ll be fine.”

Ryan let out a shuddering breath before reaching up to grab the younger’s wrists. “I don’t trust any of them,” he said quietly, almost afraid that his words may echo through the palace and reach their ears. “They conspire against me, they always have. And now you’re encased in my life, and they’ll go after you too and the child and I can’t bare to think what they’ll do-”

Gavin once again silenced his husband by resting his forehead against Ryan’s. He could feel Ryan let out another deep breath and entwine his fingers with that of Gavin’s. “Would it put your mind to rest if I went to the monastery?”

Ryan swallowed. “It would. The Greybeards are old friends of mine – I trust them with my life.”

“And what about you?”

“I would be expected to stay here.”

“You know that separating us could be just as dangerous as keeping us together?”

Ryan sighed. Gavin took in the elder’s face. His jaw was set and his eyes screwed shut. He had never seen him angry before, but he suspected that this is what it must look like. “Gavin, I understand that you question my motives, but please. You need to leave.”

The room fell into silence. After a moment, as the tension grew, Gavin pulled his hands from Ryan’s and started walking towards the door to the bedroom. Peering over his shoulder, Gavin saw that Ryan was looking straight down at the floor, clutching his hands into fists by his side. Gavin swallowed thickly, and blinked back a tear he felt peering at the corner of his eye. “I’m going to sleep for a few hours, if that’s alright with you.”

Gavin waited for Ryan’s response, but a few minutes seemed to pass before the silence became too much and Gavin went into the bedroom. He closed the door to the study quietly, and let out a sigh. High Hrothgar. Gavin had heard stories about what was within their stone walls from Griffon and Geoff. The Greybeards had taken a vow of silence until Ryan’s ascension as the dovahkiin nearly a decade before. Would they support him as they did Ryan, knowing about their marriage? Geoff’s voice echoed through his head. “High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place,” he had told Gavin once. He was only a boy then, with a mop of shaggy hair and a glint in his bright eyes. During the night, Gavin made his way into his adoptive parents’ room after a night terror, asking for a story. Geoff spent a night telling him stories about the Dragonborn, and the Throat of the World. “It’s very...disconnected from the troubles of the world.”

“What troubles? What’s wrong with the world?”

Geoff had smiled at him – the innocence of the boy, so untouched by the evils of the realm. Geoff pushed back Gavin’s hair from his face, as it always fell into his eyes, and although the man loved seeing him push it away from his eyes with a chubby fist, it would not do for a thief. 

“So many things, my boy - the world can be good, yes, but it can be cruel. There will be people and events that may go against you, but what’s important is that you keep pushing forward and don’t look back.”

Gavin smiled faintly at the memory before shedding off his clothes and climbing under the blankets. The sun was beginning to set over the city’s walls, letting a red tint come into the bedroom. As summer months approached, the days had becoming longer and the birds had returned from their winter migration south to Hammerfell. Gavin knew with the passing of time, his thoughts often wandered back to his life before he was wed to Ryan. He couldn’t help but worry about the thieves, or the night terrors that plagued him every night. While Ryan did his best to chase them away with his presence by Gavin’s side, it wasn’t the same.  
Gavin settled back to the soft mattress as his body remembered how tiring the days were becoming. Soon he fell into the throes of sleep, listening to the faint sounds of his husband pacing around the wooden floors of his study.

*

Michael’s knuckles grew white as he tightened his grip around the handle of his sword. Stormcloaks – he hadn’t seen them since the ending of the civil war nearly five years ago. What in seven hells were they still doing around?

He glanced over his shoulder to see his followers crouched down amongst the marsh’s canopy as they watched the gathering of Stormcloaks mull around a camp. They had one prisoner, Michael observed as he saw a single silhouetted figure resting against a pole to the edge of the camp. Every so often the figure moved.

Miles from his position watched Michael with a following gaze. Over the winter, Lindsey’s absence caused the Companions’ leader to lose himself in worry. He must know that something had happened to the girl when weeks became months, and no ravens carrying messages had arrived. Michael knew Lindsey better than any of them, and understood that whatever was keeping her from returning to them, she could handle it. But he still worried. 

Solitude was only a week’s march away, with the tallest spires of the Blue Palace jutting out from the nearby ridge. Miles had been briefed by Michael that something within the city’s walls must be going wrong if the old factions of Skyrim were suddenly making themselves known again. 

“We should just go around,” Miles said quietly, shuffling up to Michael’s side. The red head’s eyes were locked firmly on the camp just a stream away. 

Michael shook his head. “There’s a man there – the prisoner. I know him.”

“We can’t mount a rescue mission now,” Caleb piped up from further back in the group. “We’re so close to the city, and we’re outnumbered.”

Michael ignored Caleb’s comments and he reached back to unsheathe his dagger and twirl the handle of it until the blade was caught between his fingers. “The man with the fur shroud is their leader. Take him out, the others will scatter.”

The leader of the Companions pushed forward despite Miles’ attempt to grab onto his jacket’s sleeve. He pushed up from the ground and caught the pommel of his sword as he watched Michael disappear into the mists of the marshes. “Miles,” Caleb whispered when the man went to follow Michael. “It’s too risky.”

“He’s our Leader. The Companions always follower their leader.”

Caleb frowned and settled back into his crouched position with the others, nodding for Miles to follow Michael. 

*

Geoff’s eyelids felt like they were being weighed down with anchors as he fought to stay awake. Over the last few weeks, his position on the marsh’s damp soil had become bothersome as he shifted his weight occasionally to ease the pain running through his legs. 

He spent the days watching the movements of his captors, how Dan trudged back and forth muttering swears under his breath whenever they were visited by spies form the palace. Geoff always sent them away with an icy glare – if he could muster the strength to get himself free, he could make a run for the nearby ridge and get to the road to Solitude. All he needed was an opportunity, just one wrong move from Dan so that he could save Gavin from what the commander had planned. 

The man’s eyes finally drifted closed when he heard the unmistakeable sound of boots trudging through the soil of the marsh’s canopy. Geoff tilted his head to gaze around. The sound had not been picked up by any of the Stormcloaks, thankfully, as he cast his gaze over the surrounding mists. It was differently footsteps and rustling – not a thief or a dark brother, no; it was someone with no stealth gift. 

Geoff shifted his weight again to rest easier against the pole, and that’s when he heard the choked sound of a yell caught off at the end. One of the soldiers near Dan dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. There was a second of silence that fell over the camp before a sound of a bowstring snapping echoed from the mists. 

An arrow broke form the mists and embedded itself into the chest of another soldier on the other side of Dan. Before the body had a chance to stagger to the ground, a yell could be heard coming from the other side of the camp towards the south. Two shadows emerged from the swamps with sword drawn as they made a straight line for Dan who had his sword unsheathed.

Chaos erupted within the camp as the sounds of clashing metal weapons thundered through Geoff’s ears – after spending months listening to nothing but silence from the mists behind him, the sound was harsh and loud.

More shadows erupted form the mists to the south – weapons draw and they plunged metal into flesh and clashed with those on the other side. To the north of the mists, Geoff squinted his eyes just enough to see a gathering of shadows standing on a nearby bank at the other side of the forked stream. A knocked arrow flew and embedded itself into Dan’s back, letting a guttural shout come from the commander’s lips and he fell to his knees, still clutching the pommel of his sword and swinging it at his attackers. 

Geoff pushed his back against the pole with more force, just long enough to move his legs and feet underneath his torso, and push himself up using the pole as a guide. His legs felt strange and weak, and without the support of the pole, he suspected he would have fallen over.

The shadows on the bank dispersed and some crossed the stream itself. They joined the fray of clashing Stormcloak soldiers and what Geoff thought to be strange – Companions from Winterhold. The newest addition to the fighting was recognised immediately as night brothers as their black-armoured bodies lashed out at the remaining Stormcloaks as Dan still put up a fight.

Stumbling back from what Geoff saw as a red headed Companion, Dan staggered back to Geoff and reached for the bound thief. “Enough!” He screamed. The clashing had died down considerably as the Stormcloak soldiers had either fled or were struck down by the factions. 

“Dan,” Geoff said quietly, although among the silence, it seemed like a shout. “You’re defeated, let it go.”

The commander shot an icy glare at the thief before cutting his bindings and pulling him towards his body. The edge of his sword lay against the skin of Geoff’s throat. “No amount of wolves or shadows will stop me from taking back what belongs to me.”

“Belongs to you? Dan, can you even hear yourself?”

“He is mine, and I am his! You took him away from me, Ramsey, and if you don’t tell your friends to return back to their holds, I’ll take you from your family!”

A silence fell among the men again as Geoff swallowed. “Dan-”

“-I’m serious Ramsey! Tell them to leave.”

“They’re not my factions,” he explained calmly.” They owe no allegiance to me.”

At the spoken words, the red haired warrior Geoff had been looking at during the fray cast a glance down at the ground, and then raised it again to meet the thief’s eyes. I know you, he thought.

Dan pressed the blade of his sword against the flesh of Geoff’s throat. “Order them,” he ground out. A small trickle of blood ran down the thief’s neck as a small cut had been made by the unpolished metal of Dan’s brandished sword. 

A sound echoed from the mists again, like the one before the fray started. A small gust of wind whipped past Geoff’s ear – an arrow. The fletchers at the end of the arrow brushed past his cheek as he felt Dan’s body behind him stumbled back a step. It hit him. The thief didn’t have to be looking at the man to know that.

The sword pressed against Geoff’s throat dropped to the floor with a thump as Dan’s body stumbled further and further away from him. Free of the commander’s hold, Geoff turned around to see where the arrow had buried itself – in the commander’s throat, just above his Adam’s apple. A thick stream of blood flowed out of the man’s mouth as he gasped for breath that wouldn’t come. 

“I’m sorry Daniel,” Geoff said quietly, aware of the shuffling movements behind him as the factions regrouped with their own. Dan’s steps led him to the bank of the Karth River. Geoff raised his gaze and looked out onto the river with wide eyes – the arch holding up the city of Solitude lay at the other side of the river. The water splashed loudly as Dan finally fell, his strength leaving him quickly as his breathing became rugged and uneven.

He looked up at the thief and reached for the arrow, before pulling it out with a sickening spurt of blood. He collapsed into the lapping of the lake’s water against the bank before Geoff watched silently as his body drifted off into the main area of the river. The motion of the lake meant that his body would be carried out to port and then to the Sea of Ghosts.

Footsteps approaching the thief only brought his attention away from the harbour. Geoff looked over his shoulder and his breath caught in his throat.

“I thought you said you would go straight back to Riften?” Griffon said, a slight smile at the edge of her lips as she lowered her bow to her side. Geoff clambered up the bank and engulfed Griffon in a tight hug. “Gavin may be in danger,” she said into her husband’s neck and she wound her arms around him even tighter.

“I know,” he replied. He pulled away long enough to look over her shoulder to the watching Night brother who stood at the edge of the camp, holding the reins of two saddled horses. “They’re allies,” Griffon explained calmly. “Apparently Gavin likes making friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stumbles out of the dark abyss of college* I'm here-I'm back, Jesus
> 
> So I'm on winter break from college for a good few weeks, and I'll be attempting to finish off this fic. To be honest, I didn't think anyone would like it, and after seeing so many people leaving comments and kudos, I feel obligated to finish it x)


	20. Kill the King

The sound of unified marching footfalls thundered around the emptied halls of the Blue Palace. Joel led the squadron of black-armoured soldiers as they headed straight for the main corridor which led to the upper levels of the palace and the throne room.

Joel held up his hand and the soldiers halted. Standing idly in the middle of the red and gold decorated hall were the two main mages of Ryan’s council. Joel frowned and turned to his men. “Seal off the main exits,” he ordered. 

Jack and Gus, who had been in quiet conversation, merely lifted their gaze to the disgruntled commander as he shoved his soldiers in the direction they were supposed to go. 

“It would seem your main ally has abandoned him at such a crucial time,” the Archmage frowned and watched as the commander clutched the pommel of his sword in a tight fist. Joel clenched his jaw at the mage’s words and waited until the last of his men were gone before uttering a reply.

“I didn’t need Dan or the Stormcloaks,” he said bitterly. “If a gang of vagabonds who hide in the shadows rather than fight face to face scared them off that easily, I don’t require their help.”

The mages looked to each other before Jack spoke up, “Well I hope your plan is successful, Lord Heyman. I am sure the College will have no problems welcoming our new monarch if he ascends.”

Joel frown deepened. “You’re both leaving?”

“Forgive us, but the place of mages on the front line of wars have been long forgotten about,” Gus explained, shepparding over Kerry who had been standing patiently near the pair. “If you require my services again m’lord, I’ll be taking up residence with the Archmage.”

The pair followed by Kerry made their way up the corridor, bypassing Joel. The commander scoffed at the well wishes given by his ally – without the numbers given to him by the Stormcloaks, the soldiers in the garrison who had the nerve to side with Ryan outnumber him by two to one. Those in his own personal garrison were faithful though, and maybe, just maybe, he had a chance with dethroning the king.

The door leading to the stairs swung open and one of his own men sprinted down the corridor. “Sir! He isn’t here!”

Joel’s grip on his sword tightened. “What?”

“The prince isn’t here, m’lord. I checked the king’s quarters and the upper levels of the palace, and I can’t find him.”

The commander marched past his soldier and made a direct line for the main throne room which was a level above them. The silence of the palace was eerie as Joel thought to his odds at winning the impending battle that may arise. Swallowing thickly, he ascended the winding staircase until he stepped out onto the palace’s main corridor. “Krii faal Jun,” he muttered under his breath, unsheathing his sword. 

 

*

 

The palace’s throne room was steeped in water light as the morning sun peered through the windows behind the throne. Ryan sat stiffly on his throne, crown perched on his head. His eyes were locked on the brass doubled doors leading into the throne room, almost forgetting that a wall of faithful soldiers lined firmly in front of him. 

The sound of the doors groaning opened made the men in front of Ryan reach for the pommels of the swords and clatter their shields into one unified line. Ryan sat more stiffly in his throne when Joel walked idly into the room, twirling the pommel of his sword in his hand. The look in his eyes was absolutely murderous, unlike the one he wore many years previous. His descent into madness was evident; almost everyone knew what he would eventually do.

“Where is he?” Joel said calmly as he approached the throne. Ryan tightened the grip he had on the armrests of the throne. The blunted and disfigured blades that went into forging the throne only pressed painfully against the fleshed of his palm. “Where is your whore?”

Ryan remained silent as the men guarding him drew their swords in unison when Joel took a step too close to the dais holding up the throne.

“You are a smart one, my king,” Joel seethed, reaching across his waist for a dagger. “But he won’t be protected forever. You do realise that don’t you – death always finds its mark.”

Ryan stood up. Two of the soldiers who stood directly in front of the king looked over their shoulders with a questioning gaze. Ryan wordless strode forward, reaching for his sword which lay flat by his side. Descending the few steps of the dais, Ryan quietly said to his men, “Vos zey rahn.”

They nodded in unison and parted for him to pass through. Joel watched the king descend the steps until he stood in front of his guard holding his drawn sword to his side. “Go to the dungeons and open the gates,” he instructed his guards before they filed obediently out of the door.

Joel planted his feet firmly on the ground as the king approached him slowly. “Zu'u lost ofan hi pah Zu'u vis ofan grah-zeymahzin, nuz tol los tul ni ganog fah hi. Zu'u lost ofan hi suleyk tul hi tul tolaan zuk. Hi los kras dii wuth fahdon. Hi los rinik kras.”

I have given you everything I can give an ally, but that is still not enough for you. I have given you power yet you still desire more. You are sick my old friend. You are very sick.

The words swirled around in Joel’s mind as the king strode forward, slowly rising his sword in a standard battle stance. Ryan’s expression was strictly neutral as he started to walk around Joel who stood locked in position on the tiled floor.

“Hin zoklot gruth lost voth rut wah dii ahmul. Waan nii lost naangein voz, Zu'u fund lost niin diruth. Nuz hi - Zu'u won't ofan hi zin do nel dinok.”

Your greatest betrayal came with the threat to my husband. If it were anyone else, I would have them executed. But you - I won't give you the honour of a quick death.

“Shut up,” Joel shut his eyes as the translations wracked through his head. The language of dovahzul was powerful and had a weight to it like no other. It was meant for dragons’ minds, not humans. Ryan with his soul could withstand the power of the words, but Joel...

His eyes jolted open at the faint sound of wind whirling. Joel spun on his heel and caught the descending blade of Ryan’s sword with the edge of his it a screech of metal. With his other hand free, Joel went to plunge the dagger into the king’s exposed chest. Ryan brought down his hand to catch the commander’s wrist and divert the dagger away from him, twisting Joel’s arm at an unnatural angle. 

The commander grunted at the pain jolting through his joints as Ryan managed to break his sword free of Joel’s and bring it down onto his arm.

Joel stumbled to the ground, but made a wide swing of his sword in an attempt to hit the lower cavity of the king’s chest. Ryan kicked the hand clutching the dagger and it clattered to the ground and slide away from the commander. 

On the ground Joel looked up at the king. His eyes widened when the tip of the king’s sword met the hollow of his throat. “I could kill you right here,” Ryan said quietly. The sounds of metal meeting metal still rung around the empty throne room – soldiers were fighting outside.

“Do it then,” Joel smirked, dropping his sword arm to the ground in defeat. “Kill me.”

Ryan pressed enough on the sword to knick the skin of the commander’s throat, letting a sharp gasp come from his mouth. “Do it!”

The king held his position over his commander for what seemed like a lifetime as the sounds of fighting increased. “I said I wouldn’t give you a quick death,” Ryan explained, retracting his sword to reach out with his other hand and grab his commander by the front of his armour. “And I’m not planning to.”

 

*

 

The piercing sound of a dragon’s roar was what made Gavin spin his head around. Almost half way up the Drugdae Mountains, Gavin saw the walls of Solitude housing a number of burning houses. His breath caught in his throat as he saw two large masses erupt out of the side of the mountain holding up the palace and swerve around to the walled city itself.

“Ryan,” Gavin said. Burnie turned his horse around and reached for Gavin’s reins.

“Don’t,” he said sternly. Gavin turned to face him with wide eyes. “It’s you and the child they want.”

“You knew about this?” Gavin frowned. “What about Ryan?”

“The king will be just fine; it was you I was ordered to protect.”

The curtness of Burnie’s voice made Gavin sit back in his saddle and unknowingly rest a hand over his middle. They had afforded time that morning to acquire horses that would be able to make use of the height and density of the mountains marking the long way to High Hrothgar. It was the long way, but the safe way, Burnie had told him as they started up the mountains that morning.

Gavin swallowed thickly and nodded. “Okay.”

Burnie still looked at the boy. “He’ll be fine, Gavin,” he assured him as he slowly let go of his horse’s reins. “C’mon, we have a lot of ground to cover today.”

Gavin took one last look over his shoulder at the city. Rivers of flames were landing on streams of different coloured soldiers – dressed in all black armour. Gavin shut his eyes and kicked his horse forward and fell back in line with Burnie as they continued their trek to the Greybeards.


	21. Burn them All

Lindsay’s eyes opened to the muffled sound of clashing metal. Her joints were stiff and sore as she spent what seemed to be weeks confined to the same isolation cell at Joel’s order. Maybe it was for the best – at the sight of her pointed ears and coloured hair, many of them had been shouting vulgarities at the sight of elvish blood after the civil wars.

The sound of the dungeon’s door opening echoed through the long corridor of cells, immediately followed by the sounds of gasps and chains rattling as the elf saw some prisoners cowering to the backs of their cells. Hurried footfalls echoed until she looked up to see who stopped in front of the metal grid of her cell door.

“What are you doing here?” she frowned, as she shuffled to her feet -an astounding task in itself as she had been sitting for extended periods of time. Ryan was dressed in minimal armour and his crown, and in one hand he clutched his sword. The same sword he had when he was in Whiterun, Lindsay thought to herself.

His other hand waved down the guard who kept perched at the door. He jingled a collection of keys as Ryan muttered something under his breath. Lindsay watched the pair as Ryan kept looking up towards the door. “What’s going on?”

“Joel and his men revolted,” Ryan explained hastily. When the door of her cell opened, Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Right now you’re my best warrior.”

“I’ve been in this pit for eight months, and not once have you visited,” she pointed out, taking a step back when Ryan took a step forward. “I thought I was going to die down here.”

“I’m sorry Linds, but outside is like hell,” Ryan said, turning back to the guard standing outside the cell. “Get her belongings.”

Lindsay frowned when the guard took off down the corridor to the storage area. “They told me they sold them – my bow, my armour...everything.”

There was a brief silence that fell between the two before realisation hit Lindsay. “You knew that Joel would revolt, that’s why you kept me here.”

“I knew you had been captured,” he explained. “And there is not many people left supporting me who fight like you do.”

The guard returned with everything Lindsay had on her before she was thrown ragged clothing and footwraps. Even her potions and poison vials had been spared as Ryan held out a bag containing them. She took the pile of armour and placed it on her bunk. When handed her bow and quiver stocked with ebony tipped arrows, she turned to the king. “My bow was broken when I was captured,” she said. “Did you fix it?”

Ryan nodded. “And I had a batch of strong arrows commissioned from my personal blacksmith. Ebony can pierce almost anything.”

Lindsay smiled faintly and placed her weapons down with the armour. “What’s in it for me if I help you?”

“I can assure you that the city of Whiterun will be repaired,” he replied. “Everything damaged will be fixed; I can send my own personal guard to set up policing forces...”

The elf sighed and thought for a moment before nodding. “Give me a minute,” she said, nodding to her armour.

 

*

 

Ryan and Lindsay marched together down the long winding corridors of the palace until they came to the main doors leading out into the courtyard where most of the fighting was taking place. Some of his own had fallen, but Ryan’s soldiers were aided by the occasional swipe of flames that came from Dranys as the red dragon easily plucked off some of the black armoured archers from their positions on rooftops.

As they walked out to the courtyard with weapons drawn, Lindsay looked over the king’s shoulder to the side and smirked. “I see that the commander has been disposed of.”

Ryan followed the elf’s gaze to his two personal guards dragging the limp body of the commander across the higher battlements of the palace. “I can assure you he is very much alive,” Ryan said, turning back to the girl. “Not for long though.”

“Remind me never to cross you, my king,” Lindsay smiled as she jogged forward with bow drawn. She let an arrow fly at two black armoured guards fighting one of Ryan’s own. Ryan followed the sight of Joel being dragged to the edge of the battlements and tied to a pole that had been put there himself before going to get Lindsay.

Clutching the pommel of his sword tighter, Ryan took to the fight and downed several of Joel’s forces before the known call of Dranys sounded. The dragon landing on the opposite battlement took Joel’s men by surprise as they looked at the snarling beast.

“Dranys,” Ryan called out when the dragon stepped down to the ground to attack a black armoured man. “Uthiik.”

The beast watched Ryan incline his head to the pole holding the commander. Dranys tilted his head. “Ag mok,” Ryan continued. “Ag niin pah.”

Burn him. Burn them all.

 

*

 

Michael and Ray stood together on the banks of the Karth River watching the smoke rise from the walls of the city.

“We’re too late,” Ray said, breaking the mutual silence held between the assassins and the warriors.

“We couldn’t have fought them to begin with,” Michael replied, casting a look over his shoulder to his men. Miles and Caleb sat together, running whetstones over their blades to keep them from blunting. “Not with the state my men are in.”

Miles’ back was getting worse – he didn’t have to ask the man that to know that. It was starting to affect his gate, Michael found, as on their trek here he had begun to limp despite fighting with Caleb that he was okay.

“Lindsay is still in there,” Michael said quietly, almost to himself. Ray heard it of course, but chose not to ask what had happened. They had only just met and didn’t want to push the Companion into talking about something that appeared to be hurtful.

Geoff was healing slowly as Griffon fussed over him. They sat together away from the group – they were thieves before they were assassins or warriors. Griffon had set about asking her husband everything about Dan and the Stormcloaks, to which Geoff only replied with “I don’t know”s and “maybe”s. Griffon looked at Geoff for a minute – he sat slumped in a wooden chair pulled from one of the Stormcloak’s tents. His marked hands were wringing themselves together and he kept looking in different directions.

“We should be over there,” he said after an extended silence. Griffon sighed. “We should be fighting.”

“We’re thieves,” Griffon explained slowly, as if her husband had forgotten that fact while he had been captured. “We don’t fare well in open conflict.”

“Our son is in danger, and it’s our code that we protect him.”

Griffon winced when Geoff emphasised ‘our son’. Gavin had been everything to them until they handed him off to Solitude. He still was there everything. Though her husband has a point, Griffon knew it wasn’t wise to run into a fight between two forces – she didn’t know who was fighting who, and with the distant echoing cries of dragons and smoke emitting from the city, she knew better than to enter the city.

“I’m sure the king has him protected well enough,” Griffon said, ignoring the glare Geoff shot up at her.

The pair paused in the discussion when Michael wandered over to them with his vembraced arms crossed in front of his chest. “There is something I wish to ask of you two.”

Geoff opened his mouth to respond, but was beaten by Griffon’s “anything.”

The Companion swallowed thickly and blinked a few times before saying, “There is someone I love dearly within those walls. Ray has told me that that is the situation you two are facing too. I was wondering if you could get me into the city unnoticed.”

“Solitude, like most cities has a maze of sewer systems and escape tunnels,” Ray said, idly twirling a dagger in his palm as he came up behind Michael. “The Jarls had them commissioned as easy escape routes should things go wrong. They must lead out somewhere.”

Geoff racked his brain for memorised maps of cities’ tunnels – being a thief since he was a boy had its affects on the brain and left him with a strong memory for maps in particular.

“There should be a tunnel that leads from the harbour to the Temple of the Divines,” Griffon supplied, looking to Geoff. “All of the others were destroyed during the civil war.”

He nodded. “That’s the only one still in use by the priests.”

Michael looked to Ray, and back to the thieves. “Could you get us in there?”

“Perhaps,” Geoff said, rubbing the dirt off his palms. “But there’s a battle going on in there – I can’t guarantee that the tunnel will be barren or safe.”

Ray waved his hand. “We can run ahead of you lot,” he gestured to his collection of assassins. “The path will be clear.”

Geoff nodded and made to stand up, frowning when he was caught by the elbow by Griffon when he stumbled slightly. “You’re in no state to enter the city,” she said frowning.

Geoff ignored her and walked forward to the two faction leaders, nodding towards the river. “Let’s go, then.”

 

*

 

Dranys was idly gliding over the city, disappearing and reappearing in smoke clouds. Lindsay stood beside Ryan as they watched the dragon, and had asked him what he was doing.

“Making sure they’re all dead,” he replied simply, smiling as he watched his pet glide over the city.

Dranys had done what his king had asked of him – scorched piles of burnt bones lay scattered all over the courtyard and streets of Solitude, leaving Ryan’s own men to wander around making sure there was none of Joel’s forces left hiding.

Up on the battlements, Ryan had watched Dranys scale the walls and engulf the commander in flame before pulling his body from the pole and dropping it to the ground. The screaming had only ended with the impact of Joel’s burnt body onto the cobblestone surface of the courtyard. The disposal of their leader was enough to make his forces run for the main gates, only to be blocked off by Ryan’s men and dragonfire.

The Palace and Solitude’s buildings remained standing – as also per Ryan’s order – as everyone had been evacuated to the tunnels below the city. He would send for them when Dranys and his own men confirmed that they were safe, but for now, he and Lindsay just strode around the city.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, looking over at the elf that hadn’t harboured a scratch on her since entering the fight. Ryan had sustained one injury – a deep cut to the left side of his lip. The soldier that had harmed him was long dead, as he was impaled by a fired arrow shot by the elf.

She smiled. “It’s not needed.”

“I mean it, though. You did well for yourself,” Ryan smiled widely. “There may be a place for you here in my guard, if that’s what you wish.”

Lindsay’s smile faded slightly as she adjusted her quiver. “No, my place is with Michael in Whiterun.”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll uphold my end of our bargain. The city will be restored before winter.”

The pair halted when a squad of soldiers ran down the path they had walked and disappeared behind the corner of the Bard’s College. “How is he?” Ryan asked, shuffling on his feet slightly, stepping back to let another three men run past. “Michael, I mean.”

“He’s fine. He assumed command of the Companions after Kodlak died.”

The elf followed the king’s gaze as he watched his men gather around the corner of the Bard’s College. “He wasn’t too pleased at the announcement of your engagement.”

Ryan smiled. “Neither were a lot of people.”

“He still loves you, you know.”

Ryan swallowed and looked back to the elf. “I know.”

 

*

 

The sound of footfalls was the first thing the factions’ leaders heard before searing light erupted above them. Ray and his men were quick enough to dodge the light and lie with the backs pressed against the shadows of the tunnels, but Geoff and Michael squinted against the bright light above them.

“Who goes there?”

Geoff turned to Michael, who inclined his head to his hand wrapped around his sword. The thief raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light – sunlight – as he saw an armoured guard standing above them. “Citizens of Solitude,” Geoff replied. They had passed a number of them on the way here.

“Return to your designated tunnel, citizens,” the guard ordered, but remained holding open the sewer pipe’s lid. Both Geoff and Michael were thankfully not wearing their factions’ armour, but clothes they had acquired from the others. Ray was still in the Dark Brother’s very recognisable black and red armour. He looked at the pair as he hid in the shadows, inclining his head further down the tunnel.

“Citizen!”

Geoff squared his jaw and looked up at the guard. He let his arms drop to his sides as he motioned gently for one of Ray’s archers to come forward. Ray turned to his side and waved to one who already had an arrow knocked and waiting for their command.

“Citizen, return to your designated tunnel or face-”

Ray’s archer ran forward into the light, underneath the porthole and drew back his bow letting the arrow fly into the throat of the guard.

“I don’t hear any clashing swords,” Michael said. Geoff nodded and grabbed the side of the ladder that led up the side of the tunnel to the porthole. “Is the fight over?”

Geoff didn’t respond as he carefully poked his head over the edge of the tunnel’s opening to look around – the streets were empty, painfully so. There were a few patched of burnt stone on the streets’ surface, but other than that, there was nothing to be seen. Geoff motioned for the others to follow as he slowly climbed over to plant his feet firmly on the street.

He glanced around – the Temple of the Divines was in front of them as they appeared behind the building but before the beginnings of the city’s high walls. One by one, each faction member stood up from the tunnel and moulded themselves to the surface.

“Which way would be best to get into the palace unnoticed?” Ray asked the thief. Geoff turned in a few circles before answering.

“Follow me,” he said, racing quietly down one street towards the college. Michael and Ray shared a look before following the thief.

 

*

 

“Sir!”

Ryan marched down the streets at the mention of his title, drawing his sword. He followed the sound of one of his soldier’s calls down to the street junction of the Bard’s College and the local tavern. Lindsay was close behind, reaching to her quiver to knock an arrow in case it was one remaining soldier of Joel’s. All it took was one.

Rounding the corner, the pair stopped in their tracks at the sight of three factions surrounded by Ryan’s men.

“Michael,” Lindsay rasped as she ran forward, nearly knocking a soldier out of the way to get to the Companion. “How are you here?” she said into his neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

Michael looked at Ryan over Lindsay’s shoulder. “He has something a friend of mine wants back.”

Ryan noticeably stood more upright as he nodded to his men to allow the thief to stride forward. “I don’t know what exactly happened within these walls today,” Geoff said lowly, almost growling. “But I swear to the Divines, if there is so much as a scratch on Gavin, I’ll kill you right here, right now.”

The sound of soldiers drawing their swords erupted as all of their weapons were pointed towards the thief. Ryan sighed and motioned for them to be sheathed. “Gavin is perfectly safe with my commander.”

“Let me see him.”

“He isn’t here.”

Geoff opened his mouth, but Ray spoke up from the back of the group. “Where is he?”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the assassin. “And what reason do you have for assisting my husband, assassin?”

“He’s helped me and my friend here,” Ray inclined his head to Michael who still held Lindsay tight in his arms, afraid she’d leave again. “We owe him a debt.”

“He is my son before any marriage vow to you,” Geoff said pointedly. “His safety is my paramount concern.”

“I understand,” Ryan replied coolly. “And as someone who has been caring for him for the last eight months, I can assure you he is safe.”

“Ryan’s telling the truth,” Lindsay spoke up. Geoff turned to look at the elf. “I know that my word will mean nothing to you, thief, but I can assure you that Gavin is safe.”

Michael shot a gaze to Ryan and raised an eyebrow. “I suppose the next question would be what have you been doing here for all of this time?”

Even though the Companion had been locking eyes with the king, Lindsay knew the question was for her. “When danger became evident in Solitude, Ryan asked me for my assistance,” she said, looking up to Michael. “I only came here to protect Gavin.”

Michael frowned at the elf before glancing over to the king. “Is this true?”

Ryan nodded. It was a remnant of the truth.

“Where is he?” Geoff repeated.

“As you are the boy’s father, you deserve to know his location,” Ryan said, then casting a glance over to the faction leaders. “Join me inside the palace and I’ll inform you of everything.”

Ryan watched as his men led the leaders through the streets, and was quiet until he was ushered aside by Michael in the courtyard. “We need to talk.”

“We can talk inside the palace.”

“Bullshit,” Michael frowned. “We’re talking out here.”

Ryan sighed, and turned to see some of his soldiers standing outside waiting for them. “I’ll be fine, go inside and show them to my office.”

The men nodded in unison and escorted Geoff, Ray and the other assassins inside the palace. When the doors were heard to be shut, Michael reached forward and grabbed the top of Ryan’s chest plate to pull him forward to meet the redhead’s lips.

Ryan quickly pushed him away gently, turning his head to the side to sigh. “Michael-”

“-I’m sorry,” he said looking down at the ground. “It’s just-”

“-You don’t have to explain.”

The pair stood in the courtyard listening to the silence of the city – it was strange in contrast for the battle waged earlier. “Do you love him?” Michael said suddenly.

Ryan took in a deep breath and raised his gaze to the Companion. “I do.”

Michael nodded. Though his eyes weren’t on the king, he knew the king’s eyes were on him. “You’ll be staying in Whiterun, I presume?”

“It seems that way,” Michael agreed.

“You’ve become a good man, Michael,” the king said quietly. “You’ll lead the Companions well in the years to come.”

Ryan turned to walk towards the Palace doors, looking over his shoulder to see Michael following a few steps behind. The doors opened with a groan and revealed some of Ryan’s remaining men bustling around the halls of the palace cleaning up after the fight. It would take some time, Ryan understood, but they would begin now.

The pair strode for the king’s office where the others had been led. Before Ryan could lay his hand on the door, he was stopped by Michael’s on his shoulder. “Just one question.”

Ryan turned to face the redhead. “Anything, Michael.”

The Companion took a deep breath. “Was there ever a chance for us? Did you ever feel anything for me?”

The sounds of the others talking inside the office could be heard out on the hallway as Ryan frowned and thought carefully about his answer. “Once,” he began, catching the redhead’s gaze. “I did.”

“And now?”

“Now...I love another, as do you.”

Michael swallowed and nodded. He squared his shoulders and inclined his head to the office doors. “Thank you, my king. I think we should join the others now.”

 


	22. Siren Calls

Ryan had told him what High Hrothgar would be like, but it didn’t compare to seeing it in front of him.

Gavin and Burnie trekked up the Seven Thousand Steps to the old fort, with Gavin looking at the scenery around them – the land below them was steeped in thick snow drifts, and he thought he could make out the hold of Whiterun which was merely a speck on the opened out land. As the pair climbed higher and higher, Gavin noticed markers placed every thousand steps or so. Burnie had informed him that many people made pilgrimages here before the civil war started, with the fort of High Hrothgar being their stopping point.

By the time they had reached the fort, Gavin was exhausted. It was a non-stop hike from Solitude to the fort and had taken the pair two days. Their supplies were warring thin and the horses were being to falter as the hike up the mountain continued.

“Will you leave then?” Gavin asked with his eyes locked on the image of the stone fort in front of them. “Now that I’m here, I mean.”

Burnie halted his horse in the middle of the front courtyard of the fort and made to dismount. “I don’t know,” he replied honestly, motioning for Gavin to follow suit when the groan of the fort’s doors sounded. “The Greybeards are very particular about who they let inside.”

Gavin dropped to the ground and gathered the reins before looking towards the approaching men. There was only two dressed in dark grey robes – one had his hood over his head, covering his eyes, but the other pulled his back revealing a weather-beaten face with hooded eyes.

“Master Free,” the unhooded man said, standing in front of the men and giving a small bow. “We were told you would be joining us.”

Gavin watched the Greybeard carefully for a moment before nodding.

“My name is Arngeir,” the man bowed again and then gestured to the hooded man to his side. “And this is Master Borri.”

Gavin felt Burnie walk up beside him and take his horse’s reins. He looked over his shoulder to the commander who shot him a questioning look. “Will you be alright?” the commander asked quietly, casting a look at the elders. Gavin understood his meaning.

“I’m sure the masters here will know what to do when it happens,” Gavin replied just as quietly, striding towards the pair of elders.

Arngeir and Borri ushered the prince into the inner courtyard. The snow was falling by the time Burnie was left alone. He watched as the gates closed knowing he had done his job – get the Prince to the fort. His mind still dwelled on the battle within the city, and he constantly thought about Ryan and was he really alright. Gavin’s constant questions that he had been asking on the trek there had only embedded themselves in Burnie’s mind. He looked forward to going back to Solitude and finding out what happened within the city’s walls – he was assured by the king himself that he had supporting forces, so that he would be alright despite Joel’s revolt.

To Burnie’s surprise, another robed man came from the fort’s walls with a large sack bundled in his arms. “The Prince informed us your supplies were running thin,” he said, passing the bundle to the commander. “This should last you until you get back to your city, kinsman.”

Burnie could see from underneath his hood, the man had a look remarkably like his own – a native of High Rock. The commander bowed his head before utter a thank you and securing the sack of supplies to his saddle.

“We will keep His Highness informed on his husband’s condition,” the Greybeard said.

“I’m sure he’ll be very grateful,” Burnie smiled and hoisted himself onto his horse’s back. He handed Gavin’s horse’s reins to the man to lead it to the stables. Burnie pulled at his jacket when a gust of cold air breezed past as he edged away from the fort, thinking about everything that had happened since Gavin’s appearance within Solitude.

“Be safe, my friend,” Burnie said to no one in particular, before kicking his horse forward and starting his trek back to his king.

 

*

 

As the night drew in over the walled city of Solitude, Ryan looked out of his office’s window to see the Northern Lights beginning to seep through the dark clouds. He smiled faintly. Gavin loved watching the lights – they had spent a night out on the balcony, just sitting entangled in each other watching the lights and talking about nothing in particular.

Ryan rubbed his hand over his face before pushing away from his desk. A single sheet of parchment lay on the oak desk, with a wax-sealed envelope next to it. After arranging sleeping accommodation for the faction leaders until tomorrow, one of his men handed him a letter from the Emperor of Tamriel.

The words within the letter still whirled around in Ryan’s mind as he stood from his desk and wandered over to the window to let in some fresh air. The Emperor’s summoning was not an unusual thing to hear of – it was his reasoning that made the king frown.

His summoning to the capitol mean leaving Gavin for longer than he thought. He knew for a certainty that the Greybeards would protect Gavin while he was away, but it wasn’t his safety that was on his mind. Gavin could handle himself – he had proven that on several occasions. It was the safety of their child. He would have to visit Gavin before he left.

A soft knock on his office door stirred him from his thoughts.

“Come in.”

The door opened slowly and the familiar face of the Riften thief stepped inside. “I wanted to speak to you,” Geoff said. At Ryan’s nod and gesture to the chairs in front of his desk he continued. “Griffon and I have been talking and I wanted to have your permission on something.”

“Anything.” Ryan walked towards the chair opposite the thief and reached for two goblets and the jug of water that he always kept to the side of his desk.

“I’m aware that you promised the reconstruction of Whiterun.”

At Ryan’s raised eyebrow, Geoff supplied, “Lindsay informed me.”

The king poured the two goblets and handed one to the thief. “It is a promise I intend to keep. The civil war was tough on Whiterun and its inhabitants.”

“As was it on Riften,” Geoff finished.

Ryan sat back in his chair and smiled faintly. “Gavin has told me about your hardships, thief.”

“Gavin is still a boy blind to the world,” Geoff frowned. “He doesn’t know anything about the hardships we faced.”

The king nodded. “And I suppose your visit to me in my office would result in a promise to your home hold?”

“It would.”

“Fine,” Ryan said, placing his goblet on the desk and clasping his hands together. “Riften will be rebuilt. However I cannot guarantee people will return there because of your faction’s reputation.”

“People living above the Ratways don’t concern me,” Geoff quipped. “My concern lies with my family.”

A smile spread across Ryan’s face. “Protect the Family.”

Silence fell between the pair for a moment before Ryan stood up from his chair. “I will see to it your home will be rebuilt by the end of the year.”

Geoff followed the king’s action and placed his goblet beside Ryan’s. “Thank you.”

The curt thanks given by the thief was all Ryan needed to walk him back to the door in mutual silence. As Geoff stepped back out into the empty dark hallway, he looked over his shoulder.

“Gavin’s safety matters more to me than life itself,” Geoff informed the king, turning to face him face to face. “When I return to Riften to my family, I expect to be kept informed on how he is.”

“You’ll have weekly updates; I can assure you of that.”

Geoff nodded firmly before stalking down the dark corridor, almost blending into the shadows cast between the long lancet windows that lined the walls. Ryan held the door open for a few moments, lost in thought before casting one last look at the opened letter on his desk before closing his office door and heading to his quarters.

The rays of moonlight streaming in through the windows offered enough illumination for Ryan to see his way to the stairs leading to his chambers. Ascending the stairs, he planned his journey to the capitol – who he would take, how long would it take to get there if he went through the mountains, would it be possible to take one of his pets without risking war.

A question erupted through his mind that made him falter on the steps.

How would Gavin take the news, and would he be required to go with him being Ryan’s husband?

It hadn’t been stated in the letter – only the King of Skyrim was required to attend the council’s summoning.

Ryan stayed motionless on the staircase for a moment before continuing. He would leave Gavin here, he decided. In High Hrothgar, perched on the tallest mountain in the province and guarded by a life-long friend.

He’ll be fine, Ryan thought to himself.

In the names of the Divines, he’ll be fine.

 

*

 

The lights could be seen from all over Skyrim – it was the only thing positive about the northern-most province of Tamriel. The flash of colour seeped into Gavin’s room within the fort.

Apart from Arngeir and Borri, the Greybeards were silent in their meditations as they sat motionless in front of stained glass windows portraying the events of the Dovahkiin’s battle with Alduin. Gavin had walked along the corridors for what seemed to be an endless night atop the mountain, listening faintly to the echoes of a single dragon’s call.

Ryan had mentioned his name before, but always considered him to be a myth of sorts – but then he thought that the Dovahkiin had been a legend until he met Ryan. He had told him everything there was to know about the Greybeards and the dragon that lived on the peak of the mountain itself – who had started the faction in rebellion against Alduin. It wasn’t the history that particularly interested Gavin – he could learn all of this from a book – but it was the way Ryan had told him the stories of how he came into the world as something he thought was long dead.

His eyes lit up whenever he talked about the Greybeards, despite their differences, and how he spoke to the dragon himself on the Throat of the World. It loved seeing Ryan that happy, that content with a life that was chosen for him.

His midnight walks always took him to one place in the fortress – the first room he walked into when he came here. For having no windows, the room was surprisingly well lit with flickering torches lining the walls, placed in between carved stone heads of dragons and grey coloured flags. The floor was carved too, Gavin noticed, when he could feel the missing parts of rocks under his feet. A winding shape of a wyvern was on the floor, wrapping itself tightly around the world, almost protecting it.

He was always led here during his walks, no matter what the time. Recently, after being deemed bedbound by the healers back in Solitude, Gavin could do anything except that. He needed to move around – he was a thief, and never got used to staying in one place for an extended period of time.

Gavin’s hand wandered to his middle where he felt the slight trembling of the being in him. He drew small circles and all sorts of shapes around his middle to calm the child as over the last few days since arriving at the fortress, it hasn’t stopped moving around. Arngeir had assured him it was common enough for a baby to start moving now and again, but Gavin only scoffed. How common was it that a man ended up on their doorstep nearing the end of a potion-induced pregnancy?

The movements in his middle grew more and more erratic throughout the day, with the occasional twinge of pain running through his legs. Arngeir and Borri, although believed themselves to be invisible, Gavin knew they were hiding behind the corner of the nearest wall leading to his chambers.

Shaking his head, he took a few steps towards the small steps, intending to head towards the meditation rooms on the other side of the fortress when a sharp pain racked through his middle. His legs fell out from under him as he staggered to the floor, bracketing his arms out in front of him.

The shuffling of clothed feet could be heard as Gavin felt himself be hauled up and led to the bedchambers’ corridor. While he knew the route quiet well, his vision began to blur around the edges of his eyes, and his hearing became muffled as he heard sounds and yells as just that – noise.

 _In the light of the Divines, don’t be now_ , he thought to himself, and must have said out loud as he heard Borri’s faint voice commenting “They come when they like, thief.”

Gavin let his head fall forward as he was led through the corridors and hauled into his own room and deposited carefully on his bed. The blurring around his eyes only grew worse and Arngeir called for one of the Greys to fetch the lead-healer. He placed his hand on the thief’s forehead and almost retracted at the heat – like a fire was burning through his veins.

A bowl of water and collection of rags were placed on the bedside table by one of the other Greys and quickly retreated to the back of the room to clasp his hands together and bow his head. Arngeir dipped one of the rags in the cold water before wringing it out and placing it over Gavin’s forehead.

“You will be fine, thief,” the elder shushed as Gavin’s winced at what he presumed to be another bout of pain. “You’ll be fine.”

Arngeir turned at the sound of the door bursting open and the fortresses main healers filing through with rags and vials and blades. He ordered those not doing anything to exist, (and pray, Gavin heard him faintly say to Borri, who filed out with the rest of them).

“How long has he been having the pains?” The healer asked, wrapping a white cloth around her middle and tying it around her waist. Arngeir answered just as quickly as the question was posed.

“Only a strong bout came on a few moments ago.”

“And they’ve been continuing like that?” He directed the question to Gavin who nodded numbly.

The healer took a breath before turning to her assistants and gathering a selection of coloured vials. “It would be better if you were asleep for this, Gavin,” she told him. His head, now feeling like a tonne weight, lolled to the side and stared at her. “You’ll be in a lot of pain otherwise.”

“I’ve been through worse,” he quipped.

“I’d doubt it would be as worse as this,” she answered, finishing mixing a deep green coloured potion and placing it at his lips. “Trust me – I’ve had children of my own, and I wish they had done the same for me.”

Gavin’s lips remained shut but from the look in the healer’s eyes, he opened his mouth and let the bitter tasting liquid fall down his throat. She gave him a small smile before handing the empty vial back to her assistants and waiting until the darkness fell over him.

With one last waking moment before he fell asleep, Gavin thought quietly to himself, “Make sure they’re alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *edging slowly towards the end*
> 
> A sequel is planned with Ryan/Gavin's kid...If I have time (a one-shot, definitely, but if I can flesh it out into something more then ^L^)


	23. Princess Elise

When Gavin woke, it was slow. The world seeped back to him bit by bit through a haze of colours and light and shadows. His lungs drew in deep breaths of the mountain air that must have been sweeping in from an opened window, because he never knew the air to be this fresh inside the fortress.

The memories came flooding back to him in one big tidal wave. With a start, he tried to push himself to sit up on the bed, but winced at a flash of pain running through his stomach. He fell back into the feathered bed with a huff and ran his hand over his middle – frowning as the fell of stitches flesh just under his stomach. Gavin’s frown only deepened when the realisation hit him – it was flat. A slight bump remained, but it wasn’t as round as what he was coming up here.

He looked around the room for a frantic moment before the door creaked opened and a Greybeard stepping inside with a bundle mass in his arms. Though his hood was up, Gavin recognised the man as Arngeir, with his long beard reaching down to his arms.

He gave the thief a small smile. “It is good to see you awake, thief.”

Gavin swallowed as his eyes locked onto the bundle in Arngeir’s arms. It moved slightly, until Gavin’s throat caught when he saw two small fists flail out from underneath the sheets. Arngeir looked down at it before moving across the room to Gavin who opened his arms out without speaking a word.

“You will be glad to know that everything went perfectly,” Arngeir commented as he let the bundle pass between him and Gavin. “She proved herself to be a screamer though – I do not understand how you slept through such racket.”

Gavin smiled faintly before pulling back some of the pale coloured blankets to see a round face with smiling lips and bright blue eyes peer back up at him. Gavin couldn’t help but smile back at the tiny girl who only wriggled from her confines of blankets and eventually settled for leaned against Gavin’s chest.

“I will leave you alone with her then,” Arngeir bowed and went for the door, pausing when Gavin called him.

“Thank you for everything,” he said, wincing slightly at how cracked his voice sounded. Arngeir gave a small smile before going out the door and leaving Gavin with his daughter.

He looked down and his grin only grew when two pairs of _very_ blue eyes stared back up at him in wonder. “Hello love,” he whispered running the knuckle of his index finger over her plump cheek, earning a small from the girl who reached after his hand when he pulled away.

Gavin rested his head back into the pillows behind him and looked out the window at the mountains and the lands away from them. He hadn’t heard anything from Ryan for the past few days, which only earned the thief’s worry. _He’s a warrior_ , he chastised himself. _And with an army of dragons at his back – who could harm him?_

Gavin rocked the bundle in his arms before his daughter finally closed her eyes and slept against the warmth of his chest. She put her balled fist into her mouth and fell asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Gavin faintly wondered what Ryan would call their daughter. What would their daughter call them? She was a princess in the eyes of the court and Solitude, but could she be more? Could she be another dovahkiin like Ryan? The questions swam in Gavin’s head as the sun began to peer through the thick veil of clouds that shrouded the mountains, and for the first time, Gavin could really see how beautiful the realm was. With such a limited view of the lands to the bottom of the fortress, he made a note in his mind that when their daughter grew up, he would teach her about the world as Geoff had thought him. He was alerted to the wronging of the world and its people, and how sometimes it isn’t fair, but he remembers how Geoff took him out to the forest and taught him the names of every animal, tree, shrub and rock. Which berries could make wine or poison, or what meat would sell best in markets.

Ryan would teach her everything else. Everything he knows about the world that Gavin was blind to until they met – dragons and warriors and songs and tales of beings long considered extinct. He smiled to himself at the life he envisioned for the girl in his arms, sleeping peacefully. He knew that he may not teach her everything, that she might need to learn things for herself, but at least he could still try.

 

*

 

Solitude was quickly rid of the debris that fell during the attempted sacking of the city, and its people filed back into their own houses, shops and taverns and quickly went back to normal life. Geoff frowned at the idea, but Ryan assured them that Solitude had seen rougher days under rougher kings. The raid on the city was nothing to them.

The king and the thief watched as horses were saddled with gear and supplied on the road back to Riften. Ryan would be travelling with them to a degree, until he broke away from the main road to loop around Ivarstead and make it up the Seven Thousands Steps to the fortress.

Burnie had returned that morning with a positive report on how the trip went. No bandits, no thugs and no other incidents. That was all Ryan needed to know before he waved away his captain.

Though he had no reason to be, Ryan still worried for Gavin atop the mountains with the Greys. The letter he had been sent in the previous days burnt itself into his mind. Even as he threw the damned thing into the flames of the fireplace, he still dwelt on the subject of leaving for the Cyrodiil.

Geoff noticed the king’s absence and turned to face him. “Are you alright?”

Ryan nodded firmly before returning to watch the collection of thieves, mercenaries and assassins lad up horses with food and weapons. His eyes were drawn to Lindsay and Michael who stood together near a pair of dark brown horses, each weighed with more food than weapons. They were in quiet conversation with each other, but from the look on Michael’s eyes, he knew it was in relation to being in the capital when the siege occurred. What the elf had said to the companion still lingered in Ryan’s mind. _He asked for my assistance_.

It was true – but she didn’t tell him about Joel, about being thrown into the dungeon without Ryan’s knowledge. He frowned. With his court mostly fleeing, he could make a new one – one that would actually tell him when they plan on doing something and what might the consequences be.

Michael’s gaze flickered from Lindsay to stare directly at Ryan at the other end of the courtyard. Lindsay looked over her shoulder at the king too, but turned back to the redhead and continued their hushed conversation.

Geoff sank into the commotion that engulfed the courtyard as he made his way over to Griffon. She met his gaze as he wandered over to her with a slight limp – he never fully recovered from the injuries sustained from being held captive by the Stormcloaks, but it would take time Griffon understood. He was still too thin under his leather armour, and his face was even gaunter now that he had shaved the beard that had grown. When by her side, Geoff checked the fastenings on the horses’ saddles before patting the dark horse’s neck. “It’s going to be a long trek back to Riften,” he commented.

She nodded. “At least we have company for some of it,” she answered with a grin.

“ _Liabilities_ ,” he corrected her, the same smile forming on his own lips. “But I’m sure we can handle whatever chooses to come in our path.”

“That we shall.”

The pair elapsed into silence before Griffon spoke up. “I wonder how the others will feel knowing that Gavin is gone.”

“They already know.”

“I know they do, but,” she sighed, giving up on the knot she was forming on the back of her own saddle. “At least he had the promise of returning if something went wrong.”

“Ryan has giving me no reason to bring Gavin back with us,” Geoff answered, taking a step closer to his wife and wrapping his arms around her. “If the kid is happy, we’re happy. They love each other – even though it sickens me to say it.”

Griffon gave a small laugh. “You only feel that way because he’s our son: you want to protect him from everything that moves, but you need to let him do his own things in life, make his own mistakes. Gods know you have enough mistakes for everyone in the Ratways to life off of.”

Geoff shook his head and placed and small kiss on Griffon’s forehead. They stood like that for a moment, listening to the sounds around them – Ray calling out for his brothers to mount up, Lindsay and Michael giving orders to the rest of the Companions, and then there was them. Geoff inclined his head towards Griffon’s horse and stepped away. “We should start moving.”

She nodded and quickly hoisted herself up and gathered the reins in one hand. She looked around at the other factions doing the same thing, and then her gaze landed on Ryan already mounted on a slender black horse with a bowed head. He kicked his horse forward and was followed by Geoff who she only presumed wanted to be kept up on Gavin’s recent whereabouts, while she stayed in the back with the other Companions like Miles and the others.

When they left the city, Griffon kept her eyes trained on Geoff and Ryan who were engulfed in conversation – no doubt about Gavin. Her heart panged as it always did when she thought of Gavin in the mountains in the centre of Skyrim. She had never given a thought to visiting the fortress, and truthfully had no knowledge on what it was they actually did up there – the only thing she really understood was that they held Ryan in a high regard, and would do anything he asked. So him asking to protect Gavin until Solitude was safe again, she should be at ease.

She tightened pulled at the hood of her cloak, shielding her eyes from the blinding mid-summer sun. Riften wouldn’t be warm, she knew, as a constant gathering of clouds over the city. But Ryan’s promise still made her smile – Riften would be rebuilt, and although the ruling families wouldn’t dare return because of their reputation as a guild, she still rode on with the knowledge that a home would be waiting

 

*

 

Arngeir had it known to Gavin that he would be confined to rest. While a few months ago, he would have thrown a fit over being confined to a bed, now he had a reason to rest – his daughter hardly left his arms and slept fitfully in the crooks of his arms with her head resting against his chest.

He was taken by her – tufts of sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes with the tiniest specks of Gavin’s grey. She looked like the perfect mix of both of them. He let his mind wander as his daughter slept about what their life would be back in Solitude. She would be a princess, and Gavin would remain by Ryan’s side in the affairs of politics of the realm. What kind of princess would she be? What kind of Queen would she be when they were both gone? The questions that couldn’t be answered just yet flooded his mind, and only the creaking of his room’s oak door brought him out of his river of thoughts.

Borri strode in with his hands clasped in front of him “Drem yol lok, Prince.”

Gavin bowed his head and smiled. “Master Borri.”

“The people of Ivarstead send messages that the King has landed within the city and plans to travel up the steps to meet you.”

Gavin’s breath hitched at the words. “Ryan’s in Ivarstead?”

Borri nodded.

“Solitude is still in one piece then?”

“They did not comment on that matter, Prince,” Borri replied, “but from the company travelling with the King, most claim to know you personally.”

Gavin frowned. “Who’s accompanying him?”

“The people could make out the black armour of the Dark Brotherhood,” Borri said, “and there are two in thick brown armour.”

Gavin sat up more straight in the bed, gently cradling his daughter’s head in his arm. “Are they from any particular guild?” he asked.

Borri shrugged. “They could not describe it – the people of Ivarstead rarely see any sort of guild pass through.”

Gavin nodded in understanding. “Well then: how long will it take Ryan to make it up the steps?”

“It took you and that captain an afternoon, but the King seemed quite anxious to meet you and,” Borri looked down at the bundle in Gavin’s arms, “his new daughter.”

The Prince smiled and looked down at his daughter. “I want to see him too, love,” he soothed when the girl waved her arms free of the cotton blankets and reached up for Gavin. “When he arrives, tell him where I am.”

“Of course, Prince,” Borri said, bowed and left the two back to their silence. When the door closed, Gavin lolled his head to the other side of the room, to the window overlooking the countryside at the bottom of the mountain.

“This will all be yours one day,” Gavin said gently, running his thumb over the girl’s cheek. “You’ll rule all of this with your father and me beside you.”

 

*

 

True enough to Borri’s word, Gavin heard only running footsteps before it went silent again just outside his door. The door gently creaked open and Gavin let out a sob-laugh when Ryan peered around. “Dii lokaal,” he said gently, smiling when Ryan carefully crept inside the room and closed the door behind him.

Gavin caught the quick glimpse of others outside, but became obstructed when Ryan shut the door.

“My love,” Ryan repeated, striding carefully over to Gavin. “Are you alright?”

“More than so,” Gavin smiled, reaching out with one arm for Ryan’s hand, while cradling the baby with the other. “Someone’s been eager to meet you.”

The prince didn’t miss the slight hitch of Ryan’s breath before and laced his fingers with Gavin and took up space beside him on the bed. He looked down at the child and smiled broadly. “Dii kiir,” he soothed, reaching out to pull back some of the blankets wrapped around her face.

“You have a daughter,” Gavin said just as quietly, looking over to rub his nose against Ryan’s.

“Dii mon,” Ryan whispered. _My daughter_ floated between the two men as time fluttered past. Gavin lay into Ryan’s body, smiling giddily to himself at the life they had in front of them. “She looks like you,” he heard his husband whisper. Ryan pulled back the blanket around her head to reveal hair the same colour as their own, and eyes a mixture of theirs. “She’ll be perfect.”

“She’s a mix of the two of us,” Gavin replied, tucking his head into Ryan’s neck and smiling at the feeling of his breath tickling the hairs on his head. He missed this. He missed Ryan.

“I’m sorry I let you do this by yourself,” Ryan said, rubbing his nose into Gavin’s hair. “It must have been terrifying.”

The prince shook his head. “It hurt, but it wasn’t scary – the Greybeards took care of me.”

Ryan hummed. “I must thank them later. You’re safe and so is she.”

Gavin closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them again in realisation. “ _She_ needs a name.”

He looked up at his husband who met his gaze. “We never really talked about it,” Ryan said. “Or what last name she’ll have.”

“She’s already a mix of both of us,” Gavin commented. “She’ll be called Haywood-Free.”

Ryan smiled. “Yes she will,” he hummed. “And her first name?”

Gavin thought for a moment, looking down at their daughter and taking in every little feature of her – big eyes, a round face and a heart-melting smile when she met the gaze of both of her fathers. “I liked the name Elise,” Gavin said. “I knew a girl called that, and it suited her.”

“Elise,” Ryan pondered. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

The prince nodded before looking over to the door where a silence still remained. “Are there others?”

“Your family met me in Solitude after the battle,” Ryan said, attempting to get up from the bed but failing when Gavin tightened his grip around the elder’s arm. “Dark Brothers are here too, and Companions.”

“Did you call in all of Skyrim to help protect your city?”

Ryan smiled. “They just appeared, love. I had plenty of help defending the city.”

 _Dranys_ , Gavin thought to himself. He nodded and took in a breath before saying, “I want to see Geoff and Griffon.”

“Of course.”

Ryan called them in and the two, just like the king did, carefully strode their way into the room, mindful of the baby in Gavin’s arms. “My boy,” Griffon said, striding forward to Gavin’s side. She placed her hands on either side of Gavin’s face before planting a small kiss on his forehead. “My precious boy,” she whispered.

Gavin smiled up at her, noticing the slight brim of tears around the corners of her eyes. He looked over to Geoff who stood as still as a guard. “You’re safe,” he said simply. His gaze wandered down to the bundle in Gavin’s arms. Griffon did the same, but voiced, “Can we see...”

“Her,” Ryan said from the other side of the bed. The thieves looked up at him before he continued, “you can see her.”

Gavin transferred the baby to Griffon who smiled brightly at her tiny body. “She looks just like you both,” she said, turning to Geoff. “Come see.”

Geoff wandered over with all the cautiousness a thief could handle before looking over Griffon’s shoulder at the baby. “She does,” he said.

Gavin reached out for Ryan while the two thieves were looking at their child. They wove their fingers together and Ryan smiled at the slight squeeze his husband gave his hand. “I missed you too,” he said quietly.

The others piled in after Geoff and Griffon and gave the royal pair the same comments they had gotten before. All of them were careful in their movements as Ryan watched them holding his child with a protective glint in his eye. Borri eventually came to the room and said that rooms were available so that none would have to brave the steps downwards during the night. All accepted and soon left Ryan and Gavin with their daughter with hushed goodbyes.

The two lay side-by-side, wrapping in each other as their daughter lay peacefully in Ryan’ arms – the girl looked so small in Ryan’s arms, Gavin thought, as he gently rocked her to sleep after taking so much time looking up at new faces.

Gavin moulded himself to Ryan’s side, mindful of the stitched wound across his abdomen. Ryan wrapped one of his arms around his husband, while rocking his daughter in his other, gently humming to her and watching her fall to sleep.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” Gavin commented sleepily, feeling heavy in the elder’s arms. “What exactly are you singing to her?”

“I can’t,” Ryan said with a slight smile. “An old song my own mother would sing to me when I couldn’t sleep – it used to be outlawed in Skyrim during the civil war.”

“That’s why I never heard of it then,” he replied, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Ryan cast his eyes down at Gavin before he rubbed gentle circles into his back. “Sleep, love.”

Gavin did just that, falling into darkness listening to the soft humming rumble through Ryan’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bow down to Princess Elise Haywood-Free, Princess of Skyrim


	24. Long Live the King

Gavin walked down the hallways of the Blue Palace, smiling at each person who passed him – from nobles to servants. After greeting him when they passed, he didn’t miss the quick glance down to his side they all gave and the broad smile that overtook their faces.

Elise stumbled in her efforts to keep up with her Pa, but with her hand firmly snagged in Gavin’s, she had no problems on the final leg of their journey. At such a young age, Gavin loved seeing her young face brimming with joy whenever he took her to the throne room where Ryan worked. He was always giving meetings and consultations to people all over Skyrim in the year following the Siege of Solitude.

The final leg of their journey was the long main corridor lined with large lancet windows looking out onto the nearby city on one side at the hills on the other. Gavin paused in his stride when the hurried patter of steps beside him stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled broadly at the sight of his daughter – standing on wobbling legs and staring back at Burnie who had walked passed them. The glint of his new silver armour must have caught her attention, Gavin mused to himself. “Dii hes koor kiir,” he said softly. Elise looked at her Pa. Gavin reached out with his hand. “We don’t want to keep you father waiting.”

Elise ran forward into Gavin’s leg. The Prince laughed at hoisted her up into his arms. Although her first birthday had been a number of weeks ago, Ryan had always commented on her ability to stand and run around the castle without any problems. Divines help them when she gets older; they always said to each other – with her father as a King and her Pa an ex-thief, she’ll be a handful to deal with.

The throne room looked brighter without the lingering presence of Ryan’s council. He sat by himself atop the tiered dais, reclining comfortably on his throne and addressing a group of mercenaries from a southern province. Gavin felt Elise perk up in his arms at the sight of her father, and he had to run his hand over her back in an effort to keep her quiet. Gavin listened in to the conversation Ryan had with the three mercenaries – each dressed in gold and silver armour not like any he had seen before.

“The Emperor requests you have an audience with him,” one of them said – a man standing in the middle with a cloak over his armour. He had brown hair and a line of stubble running over his jaw-line. Gavin narrowed his eyes at the man before sweeping them over to Ryan. What does the Emperor want?

“He will have an audience with me once my kingdom is back under control,” Ryan replied seemingly calmly, but Gavin heard the sharpness underneath. “If he wasn’t aware, it had been affected greatly by people in my employ – people he recommended I employ.”

The man frowned – as Gavin weaved his way through the crowds of stewards and travellers from other Holds, he could make out the man’s face better and realised he was a lot younger than what he first proved to be. Man wouldn’t be the term used to describe him – boy more like it, Gavin thought.

Ryan’s hand visibly gripped the armrest of the throne tighter when he leaned forward slightly. “Go back to the Emperor and say that once my business here is finished, I will attend his meeting.”

The mercenary frowned, but nodded. The crowds of stewards behind them parted as they filed out through the throne room’s doors. A soft murmur came from the stewards and thanes of other holds, but they all silenced when Ryan stood from the throne and said calmly, “That will be all for today: those who still have issues, come see me here tomorrow at the same time – I won’t turn you away.”

Ryan stepped down the dais and wove his way towards his family at the side of the room. He smiled when he saw Elise try and wiggle out of Gavin’s arms into Ryan’s.

“Did she give you trouble?” he smiled when he took the girl out of his husband’s arms. She let out a small giggle before wrapping her arms tightly around Ryan’s neck. Gavin shook his head.

“Not at all,” he reached forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “What was all that about?”

Ryan looked from Elise to Gavin. “Nothing important-”

“-Don’t,” he hushed. “We promised not to lie to each other. I want to know what the Emperor wants with you.”

Ryan sighed and took Gavin’s hand. “This is a conversation for another time.”

Gavin opened his mouth to respond but Ryan cut him off by leaning down to kiss him gently. Gavin breathed out through his nose and wrapped an arm around his middle. When they broke away, Ryan pressed his forehead against Gavin’s. “I’m not going to lie to you, or will I try and play this off like it’s nothing – but I’ll tell you later when this one is asleep.”

The prince looked at Elise nestled quite comfortably in Ryan’s hold. She looked over his shoulder at the people still leaving the throne room and he didn’t miss the glint in her eye at the different colours of robes each wore in accordance with their holds.

Gavin nodded. “Later, then,” he agreed. The pair remained like that for a moment before Ryan led them both out of the throne room, muttering something about being in there all morning. They walked back down the corridors leading to the outside gardens – they weren’t as big as what they used to be, Ryan told him once, but it was better than nothing.

Ryan let Elise down on the ground, and with shaking legs, she stumbled ahead of them weaving through the bushes of roses and other flowers Gavin never really learned the names of.

The King smiled. “She’ll be just like you,” he commented, wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist. “An adventurer.”

“She’ll rule just like you,” Gavin quipped, casting a look up at Ryan. “A Queen who knows when to be gentle and when to be harsh.”

Ryan stiffened. “I don’t want her to be like me,” he said quietly. “I made too many mistakes-”

“-All influenced by people you couldn’t trust,” Gavin insisted. “They used you to make themselves more powerful – you couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“I am the King – I could have stopped it at any point, but I didn’t.”

“They threatened you-”

“-With you.”

Ryan pulled Gavin into his arms. “They threatened me with _you_ ,” he whispered, but Gavin noticed that there was something else there. Hurt.

He reached up and brought both of his hands to hold Ryan’s face, making him look at the younger. “I’m still here. I’m here with you, and her, and we’re happy. Aren’t we?”

Ryan swallowed. “Yes. Yes we are.”

“Good.”

Elise came running back up the path with a purple flower clutched in her hand. She almost ran into their legs but Ryan leaned down and hoisted her up into his arms. She waved the hand holding the flower and reached up to Ryan’s crown which still perched itself on his head.

“It’s beautiful, love,” Gavin smiled at the joining of the crown and the flower. Elise smiled broadly before wiggling out of Ryan’s hold again to find more flowers.

“We’re very happy,” the thief said, wrapping his arm around Ryan’s to continue their walk around the gardens following the giggling of their child.

 

*

 

Heavy mists lay over the banks of Winterhold as two cloaked men waited for their ship to be repaired. A crack in the hull appeared overnight and caused the captain to run the ship into the nearest harbour to repair it.

“Why are we waiting for the ship in the first place?” one of the men grumbled. “Cyrodiil is land-logged – there’s no point getting on a ship.”

“We’re not going to Cyrodiil yet,” the other snapped. “We need to go to a southern land first to get...supplies.”

The shorter man grumbled and wrapped his cloak tighter around itself. At the eastern part of Skyrim, Winterhold was well sheltered against attackers or weather, but practically inhospitable since the civil wars destroyed most of the city.

The captain of the ship came barrelling up the steep slope on which the men decided to perch themselves on. “The repair is nearly done,” he panted. “It shouldn’t take more than another hour or so.”

The taller of the men gave a curt nod and turned to the other. “We can fill that time with a walk over the banks.”

The shorter frowned but followed in the footsteps of the taller, wincing at the cold of the snow-heavy banks. “These supplies better be worth it,” he grumbled.

“Of course they will,” the taller said calmly, wading out to the water’s edge and look out at the Sea of Ghosts. “Elves tend to make better spells and ingredients than humans.”

The shorted agreed in a sense – dark elves were infamous for the black magic – which was exactly what they needed. Since running aground, the two men had been scouring the shores of the city for any plants they both knew couldn’t grow in the black lands.

The taller man paused mid-stride, looking out into the sea. “What is it?” the shorted asked.

“The captain’s delays might affect the quality of our cargo,” the taller turned to look over his shoulder, frowning at the shorter. “You did freeze the thing before we ran aground didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! And if I hadn’t, the weather here would do that for us!”

The taller frowned and pulled at his cloak. “I want to check on it,” he said, walking back up the small hill to the ship which, true to the captain’s word, looked as good as new. The shorter of the men hurried along, grumbling under his breath about not being taken seriously when it came to necromancy.

“It’s safe!” he insisted.

“I want to make sure,” the taller said, waving at the man aboard to lower the boarding plank.

“I’m actually offended you don’t trust me, my old friend,” the short bit.  They both walked up the boarding plank and navigated the decks below to the bottom of the ship where two large rectangular boxes laying among boxes of nightshade and bluebell. “Open them,” the taller ordered; ignoring the gaping look the other man gave.

The man slid open the lid and gestured widely to the first box. “See! It’s like he only died yesterday!”

The taller walked forward, pulling back his hood to have a proper look inside the first box. Stripped to the waist was the battered and bloodied body of a Stormcloak commander they had found wadding upstream when they both evacuated the palace. The poor thing drifted along the stream until the taller man pointed it out to the other mage and hauled it ashore.

“Fine,” the taller said, standing back from the box so the shorter could close it again. The blue and black covered body was dotted in red piercing marks and slices across his chest. “Would you like to see the other?”

The taller sighed. “No, he should be in good condition too – he wasn’t as water damaged as this one,” he said tapping the first box’s lid. He stood away and took one final look at the boxes, as with the other supplies they brought with them from their own respective mage’s guilds.

The heard the captain call outside that they were ready to move. “To Valenwood,” the shorter said, walking around from behind the boxes to walk back up through the ship with the taller man.

The captain hurried down the steps leading form the upper deck. “Master Pattillo! Master Sorola! The ship-”

“-We heard you, Captain,” Jack commented, pulling his hood back up from the cold sweeping in from up on deck. “If you don’t mind, my friend and I are in a bit of a hurry to get to Valenwood.”

“Of course! We should be leaving within the next few minutes.”

“Perfect.”

The captain hurried past towards the lower decks, leaving the two mages to smile at the thought of their next experiment.

“Long live the king,” Jack said with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Gus mirrored the action.

“And long live his family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sequel series is happening.
> 
> With your old friends. Or enemies. Depending on who your siding with.


End file.
